Who We Really Are
by Smeagol Fasir Kenobi
Summary: A couple unexpcted visitors in Ms. Frizzle's class help the students see who they can really be when they're under enough pressure.
1. New Arrivals

1Disclaimer: I do not own the Magic School Bus. Noka and Latano and the danger they're in are mine. All mine. Muahahahaha

"Class, I'd like you to meet our new students," Ms. Frizzle said in her usual cheerful way.

Everyone smiled kindly at the new arrivals, Latano and Noka. Both boys looked strangely older than anyone else in the class, though they were the same height.

Latano had long black hair, straight, past his shoulders. He had dark brown pants, a loose dark grey t-shirt, and grey eyes that didn't seem to miss anything.

Noka's eyes, on the other hand, missed everything. He was blind. But that didn't stop him from targeting people with a sightless stare whenever they spoke. His skin was lighter than Latano's - which was a very even medium brown - but darker than anyone else's besides Tim and Keesha's. He had dark brown hair almost as long as his friend's, brown pants about the same shade, and a dark green t-shirt.

Ms. Frizzle smiled. The fact that they looked a little older didn't stop her from thinking these two were in need of a little seasoning. "How long will you be staying?" she asked.

Latano counted to ten and mentally wished this crazy teacher hadn't asked the question so soon. He'd been hoping to get to know the class a little better before asking for their help. But, on the other hand, time was of the essence.

"Should I tell them?" he asked Noka in a whisper.

"They're not ready," Noka said. _'And their teacher is over cocky,' _he added mentally.

"We're ready to take chances, make mistakes, and get messy!" Ms. Frizzle announced.

Noka sighed. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was cheerful, cocky teachers with high-pitched voices and frizzy hair. Okay, so the frizzy hair didn't matter to him at all. But after only two minutes, Ms. Frizzle was already on his nerves. "They aren't ready," he repeated, hoping Latano would decide to go somewhere - anywhere - else.

"Not a field trip," Arnold pleaded.

"We don't have a choice," Latano said to Noka, ignoring Arnold's request. "Ready or not, they're our only option." He turned to Ms. Frizzle. "Actually, we won't be staying long at all. We need your help. Our friends are in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Tim asked.

"Like no threat your Federation has ever faced," Noka sighed.

"Leave the Borg out of this," Latano advised. "You don't want to confuse them." He turned back to the class. "But he's right. I won't force any of you to help us. Unwilling allies are worse than useless."

"Allies?" Ralphie asked. "Is it just me, or does that sound like you're fighting a war?"

Latano smiled. Maybe this class wasn't as naive as he and Noka had thought. "You're right," he said evenly. "We're fighting a war. And we're on the verge of losing."

_That_ set the class off. Cries of "Where?", "Who're you fighting?", and "Why doesn't the President know about this?" filled the room.

So much for _'Not as naive as he and Noka had thought.'_

Again, Latano counted to ten, and looked for anyone who wasn't shouting questions left and right. "Tim," he said quietly, pulling into the hallway the only student who fit that description. "I need you to help convince your class that I'm not joking."

"How?"

Latano thought for a moment, and then realized something. "Tim, quickly, go outside and see if your bus is here."


	2. Homework Assignment: Stay Alive

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine. Nor are the kids. Nor is Ms. Frizzle. Nor is Liz. Whatever Woodland Wanderers survive this battle _(Ow–it's a story, guys. And keep working on that neck pinch. Not quite . . . . there, that's good. Now let go before I pass out) _are still, unfortunately, _(joke, you crazy elf, joke)_ still mine.

Chapter Two

Homework Assignment: Stay Alive

Inside the classroom, Noka was trying to stop everyone from yelling. Due to memories he didn't want to mention, of a young warrior thrown into this situation, he already had a headache. Questions weren't helping.

"All right, all right, quiet!" he called out over the ruckus, which wasn't easy. "One question at a time! And hear the answer out! Where? An island in the Pacific Ocean. It's where I'm from."

"So this is a small war?" Ms. Frizzle asked, for once sounding a little worried.

"Only for the moment. If we are defeated, the whole world will be next."

"Who are you fighting?" Carlos asked.

"Monsters."

"According to my research, there are no such things as monsters," D.A. pointed out.

"Tell them that when they succeed." It was Noka's turn to count to ten. "Let me rephrase that. Eight-foot-tall people with purple wings, green horns, and red eyes who want to take over the world."

"How many of them are there?" Ms. Frizzle asked, not nearly as sing-songy as normal.

"Millions," Latano said as he came back through the door, supporting Tim, who seemed very out of breath. "Maybe billions. Too many to be defeated by force of arms, whether we sit to endure siege after siege or march out to be overwhelmed. But we're trying to buy the rest of the world some time. Here, Tim, sit down."

"What happened, Tim?" Phoebe asked as Latano helped him into a seat.

"He's telling the truth, everyone. I went outside. There were two of those monster things. Latano saved me."

"Hardly. None of us are safe. Ever," Latano pointed out.

"The bus was gone," Tim added.

The class was silent. "You said you were buying time," Ralphie said at last. "Time for what?"

"Who knows?" Noka said. "Perhaps for a miracle. Perhaps only for Frodo to get a little further on his Quest while the enemies who should be hunting for the Ring waste their own time destroying us."

Only Latano smiled at his friend's joke. "But, really? Just time for the world to learn what's going on, to be prepared for the day when we fail."

"Oh, show a little optimism," Ms. Frizzle encouraged. Liz nodded.

"Where do all these monsters come from?" Wanda asked.

"An island, close to our own," Latano said.

"Then why not just tell the government to blow them off the face of the Earth?" Carlos suggested enthusiastically.

"They have as much right to live as we do," Phoebe objected.

"Phebes! They want to blow us to bits!"

Latano shook his head. "No, they don't. An empty world is no good to them. They want us here, alive."

"But that's worse!" Arnold protested.

Latano smiled gently. "It is strange, indeed, to find that wisdom in one so young. You're quite right, Arnold. But there is always hope. Hope that the world will be ready when we fail. We may be defeated, but we will not surrender."

"Who is '_we_'?" Keesha asked.

"Why, the rest of our company, of course," Latano said cheerily. "Balin, Dwalin, Kili, Fili, Dori, Nori, Ori, Oin, Gloin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and myself."

The class stared. Tim smiled a little. "Yes, Thorin," Noka laughed. "A joke," he explained to the students. "But, really, '_we_' is our people, the Elves of the Undiscovered Island. And the Dwarves. And the kytes."

"According to my research, a kyte is a bird -"

"Can the books, D.A.. This is for real!" Carlos exclaimed.

Latano nodded. "I wasn't talking about birds. And you're right. This _is_ for real. All of it. And your bus _is_ gone. And we _are_ in danger."

"What kind of danger, as long as we stay here?" Arnold asked.

"This is where they're going to attack," Latano said calmly.

"Why?" Phoebe asked.

"I don't know. There's something here they want. Or someone. I don't know who or what it is, but there's only one way to find out. Ms. Frizzle, I need you to evacuate the school. Anyone in this class who doesn't want to help us should leave, as well."

"Do you know where the bus is?" Tim asked as Ms. Frizzle left to inform the principal.

"No, Tim, but we'll find out," Latano said confidently. "But we have another problem -"

Just then, six more people came running through the door. "Never mind," Latano said with a casual smile. "They took care of it."

"Ah, good; you found them," a young girl with long light brown hair said cheerily.

Latano quickly introduced everyone. Three of the new arrivals were Elves, similar in dress to Noka and himself. The young girl who had spoken was Balo, his niece. Tandro, who had brown hair slightly lighter and longer than Noka's, had brown eyes as opposed to the grey that apparently ran in Balo's family. Rona had very dark skin, light blonde hair, and brown eyes.

The other three were human. Peter, whom Latano had actually introduced at first as Shadowsong, was the oldest, somewhat wizard-like in appearance. He had long grey hair, a grey beard, dark brown eyes, a grey cape, and a tall walking stick.

Eric was an adult, as well, with pitch-black hair and ice blue eyes. His gaze was harder than Latano's or even Noka's.

The last of the group was a teenage girl named Morgan. She had wavy medium-brown hair down to her shoulders, dark blue eyes, glasses, and a walking stick like Peter's.

Ms. Frizzle rushed in. "The whole school's been evacuated," she reported, "and Mr. Rule suggests we leave, too. Who are . . . . . ?"

So Latano introduced their friends again. "Anyone is welcome to leave," Peter said calmly, echoing his Latano's previous statement. "If you accept this danger, it will be of your own free will."

"What good will it do to place more of them in danger?" Rona asked, showing her usual logic.

"We may find out who or what the gleems want," Latano explained. "We can spread out more, make them look harder, keep them from going elsewhere. We want to keep them here."

"I'm in," Tim said without even looking to anyone else for advice.

"Me, too," Carlos nodded.

"Come on, you weasly wimps," Wanda said, looking at the others. "They need us."

Dorothy Ann and Ralphie nodded their agreement. "Let's do it," Keesha agreed.

"At my old school, we never protected the world from flying monsters," Phoebe said. That meant she was in.

"I knew I should have stayed home today," Arnold whimpered.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Eric asked.

"That's a yes, I guess."

"Take chances, make mistakes, get messy!" Ms. Frizzle said for the second time in one day.

"Good, very good," Latano said, not as bothered as Noka by Ms. Frizzle's high voice. "Liz?" The lizard nodded.

"How long do we have?" Ms. Frizzle asked.

"Thirty minutes. We need to spread out," Latano added before anyone, especially D.A., could comment on their lack of sufficient time to prepare for a battle. "You know the school; we know what we're facing. Peter, do you have our weapons?"

"Don't I always?" He handed out swords and small bows, as well as quivers of arrows, to everyone, including the confused students and their teacher. Without hesitation, he also handed Liz a small dagger. "Don't aim to kill," he told the students. "They'll only attack harder the next time. Stick to defense."

"Daelin, you're speaking a foreign language to them," Morgan laughed. Then, to the students, "In other words, stay alive."

Peter punched his friend playfully on the shoulder. "Daelin's a foreign language, too; you're the one confusing these guys, le Fay."

"Split up into eight groups," Noka said, silently reminding Morgan they only had half an hour. "Ms. Frizzle, you and Liz are with me. Tim, you're with Latano. Dorothy Ann, you're with Rona. Carlos, you're with Balo. Wanda, you're with Eric. Keesha, stay with Tandro. Peter, you're with Ralphie. Morgan, can you handle Phoebe and Arnold?"

"Sure," she said, glancing at the last two to volunteer. "I think I can handle that."

"Good. We'll need four groups inside and four outside. The outside will be more dangerous. It's where the gleems will attack first - in full force. The gleems will attack from the south since it's still morning."

"We'll take the south," Latano said, not questioning for a single moment his friend's logic in arriving at that statement. Tim nodded.

"Good. We'll take the east," Noka said. "Aiming into the sun won't affect me."

"Ralphie and I will take the west side," Peter volunteered immediately, then added, "if that's okay with him."

Ralphie shrugged. "Okay."

"North okay with you guys?" Morgan asked Arnold and Phoebe. They nodded. "We'll take north, then," Morgan said. Her smile still hadn't faded.

"The rest of you, stay inside and go different places," Noka said.

"Rona and I will stay here," Dorothy Ann said. "Keesha, take the library. Wanda, the cafeteria. Carlos, the gym."

Noka smiled. "Let's go, then."


	3. Acceptance of the Enemy

Disclaimer: All I own of the Magic School Bus is a bunch of tapes that my mom taped off PBS when I was about five or six. Maybe seven. I don't know. Those years just seem to blend together . . . . . . blend, years, blend. Okay, so I'm weird. But I'm not the only one.

Chapter Three

"This is good," Eric commented when they reached the cafeteria. "Lots of space."

"Should we move the tables?" Wanda asked. "We have time."

"No. They make good cover. And big wings make it harder to move around obstacles. Know your enemy and know yourself, and you shall always be victorious."

"Who said that?"

"Originally? Some Chinese guy. I heard it from Athos, who heard it from Star Trek."

"Athos?"

"The leader of the gleems. The strategy works really well for chess, too. Especially for him."

"You've played him in chess?"

"Oh, yeah. A lot. I used to work with him."

Wanda took a few steps back. "What?"

"Good. You reacted. People aren't usually so open with their surprise, which actually makes it harder for me."

"Why?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Anyway, I stopped thinking of conflicts as 'good guys' and 'bad guys' things a long time ago. Don't get me wrong; it would be easier if life _was_ like that. But it's not. Come on; we might as well get in a little sword practice while we're waiting."

"I'm not sure I trust you."

"I'm used to that. It's not too late to go join another group."

"No; that's all right."

"Come on. I'm the best practice you'll get. I know exactly what the gleems will throw at us."

Wanda hesitated, but then drew the sword Peter had given her. "You'll go easy on me, right?"

"I won't hurt you, but you will learn to defend yourself." He charged.

**

* * *

**

**Ultimate Sora – **We'll see if these 'winners' can manage to win the battle, huh? Though it may be a few chapters before they actually do any fighting . . . . I'm a huge procrastinator. I'll let them talk like this forever. Hey, the story's called 'who we really are' not 'how well can we fight,' okay? :) Many more mental changes going on than physical changes. 'Cause that's what really happens in a battle, that's why. :)


	4. Innocence and Goodness

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine. My three-year-old brother may think it's his, but it's not his, either. Nor are the Woodland Wanderers his. I guess you could still sort of call them mine, whatever happens to them in this story.

* * *

Chapter Four

"You seem like a good strategist, Noka," Ms. Frizzle said as they made their way to the eastern side of the school.

Noka nodded. "It's actually quite uncommon for my people. We never had war before the gleems came, three years ago."

"Three years?"

"Three years this past Fourth of July." He paused. "I had secretly hoped your class wouldn't want to stay, Ms. Frizzle. They're so innocent. A real glimpse of war would be . . . ."

"My students, Noka, have been to outer space, baked in a cake, almost eaten by a tyrannosaur, shrunk to the size of an amoeba, and turned into light. They're ready for anything."

"But you were with them the whole time. Now they're on their own. And separated. War, Ms. Frizzle, puts the spirit under incredible pressure, and it's when you're under incredible pressure that you find out what you're really made of. Are they ready for that?"

"Were you?"

"No," the Elf answered truthfully. "Not in the slightest. But war was not my greatest test. Being blind, at first, was."

"You haven't always been blind?"

"Oh, no. I lost my sight in our first battle with the gleems. Head injury. They barely managed to save my life. At the time, I wished they hadn't."

"Why?"

"I hadn't yet discovered that I could do more with my hearing than I could ever do with my sight. You can tell a lot about people from their voice. I can hear experiences, events, of the past in their voices."

"For example?"

"You've seen a lot, Ms. Frizzle, done a lot of things, that no one would ever dream of doing, but you're cocky. You're sure you can handle any situation, because that's what's always happened before. And, forgive me for quoting _The Wrath of Khan_, but you've never faced death."

"You could tell all that?"

"Yes. And your students think the same thing, that you can solve any problem. Do you think they're ready?"

"I'm . . . not sure."

Noka smiled. "If all your students are as honest and good of heart as you, they should be fine."

* * *

That's what _you _think, Noka. Muahahahahaha.

* * *

**Ulitmate Sora – **I'm just glad there are other MSB fanfics at all. And surprised more people haven't taken the opportunity to write weird stories about their little siblings' favorite shows. :)


	5. Diversity and Change

Disclaimer: Is this thing really even necessary anymore? The Magic School Bus is not mine. The idea to post unreasonably short chapters is. :)

* * *

Chapter Five

"There are a lot of good books here," Tandro said, scanning the shelves quickly. "I hope the gleems won't completely wreck the place."

"They'd do that?" Keesha asked.

"Actually, they'd probably set fire to it, to cover up for whatever damage they _did_ do."

"Why?"

"They're not ready for the world to know about them yet. When they attack, they want it to be a surprise attack."

"Do you really think they'll ever get that far? Latano seemed to think it was hopeless."

"I don't know. If they do, I hope the world is ready. I'd hate to see humanity destroyed. You're such an interesting race."

"Really?"

"Definitely. You're so diverse. And you take such pride in your diversity."

"You're talking about skin color?"

"Partially. but also your different heritage. Foods. Customs. Religion. Everything."

"And Elves aren't like that?"

"Our civilization is much smaller than yours. We have two villages on the island, and that's all. So our heritage is the same, for the most part, even between the two. And skin color really makes no difference to us."

"What are your villages like?"

"We live in the forest. Our houses are all made out of wood, with open windows and sometimes open doors. We're very close to nature, and to each other."

"Sounds perfect."

"It does. But to each society their own. The gleems are close to each other, too - so close they don't have individual names. Contrary to what most people think, they're intelligent. They're just not trained to use that intelligence."

"How do you know?"

"I was a spy for the Elves. The gleems and their leader, Athos, thought I was spying on the Elves fore them. So I know a lot about both sides."

"Such as?"

"That they both have good intentions and faults. Peter believes that if you can change one person at a time, show them honesty and courage and goodness by example, and they show others, the world will eventually find peace. Athos thinks, maybe rightly, that you need to add an 'or else' factor."

"I think I understand. But what 'or else' factor does he plan to add?"

Tandro smiled gently. "Keesha, let's just say I hope you never have to experience their idea of 'or else.'"

"You have? Then they don't kill people?"

"Oh, no. And all of us have. Even Balo and Morgan."

"The youngest?"

Tandro nodded. "They used to be just like you - young, innocent, curious. Years of war have changed them."

"For better or worse."

"A little of both. They see life differently than they used to. We all do."

"Peter used to be young and innocent?"

"So I've heard. A long time ago. He's been defending our island for a long time, kept the gleems from finding it until three years ago."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

* * *

Okay, very bad ending place, but I couldn't think of anything better. If I seem stuck on the idea of youth and innocence, it's because I am. I mean, try comparing the episode where they go back in time and see dinosaurs to Jurassic Park. Sorry. Temporary obsession. I just finished reading Jurassic Park. Yes, I do mean I read the book, not the junior novelization of the m ovie. :) And, yes, I did see the movie first. A mistake. The book's better. Anyway . . .


	6. A Family of Warriors

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine. The rest of these weirdos are my friends.

* * *

"I don't get it," Ralphie complained.

"What's that?" Peter smiled.

"How could you actually _volunteer_ to stay out here?"

"Total truth? I hate long waits."

Ralphie looked the old man over again. "I don't think that's it. When Noka said it would be more dangerous out here, you practically jumped at the opportunity to volunteer."

"Okay, so I like danger. And I try to keep from putting other people in danger. If I volunteer, that's one less other person who has to."

"You're insane."

"If you'd seen what the gleems were capable of doing, you'd want to keep other people from seeing it, too."

"Really?"

"If I read you correctly. You seem a good person, Ralphie. I'm not as good at that as Noka, though. He's a good judge of character. I trust too easily."

"Strange, for a warrior."

"Oh, so you noticed that."

"I noticed your limp."

"I'm impressed, Sherlock."

"We only walked halfway around the school," Ralphie said sarcastically.

"I guess you're right. I just got used to the others being used to it."

"You're real close, huh?"

"A second family. The only family I have left."

"What happened?"

"When I was five, my parents were killed by the gleems. When I was ten, my foster parents were killed, and my foster brother. I met a priest who took me in. Then I learned his brother was the leader of the gleems. He was killed less than a month later, by the gleems."

"Man. He'd kill his own brother?"

"It's haunted him ever since. He learned a lesson that day. A very hard one. That kind of guilt doesn't disappear. It was a long time before either of us formed a strong connection with anyone again. There was too much pain. Sure, there were young people like you I'd meet, talk to, ask for help with whatever happened to be the big problem. But I could never open up totally to them. It hurt too much. I was afraid that if I ever got close to someone again, something terrible would happen to them, like it did to every other family I'd had."

"What changed your mind?"

"When I was about eighteen, I met Latano."

"Wait . . . he's that old?"

"He's that old. I came every once in a while to his village. We were both young, and travelers. He wandered from one village to another. I brought him even farther. I took him here, to the United States."

"How?"

"A talent I've always had. I close my eyes, the wind starts to blow, and I can go wherever I want."

"Cool!"

"Yeah, except it doesn't work in any sort of cage or prison. So no good if you get captured. Anyway, I brought him here. He was amazed. This new world was so big, so full of people. We both realized then that we had to protect it. And that we had to work together to do it. See, back then, the gleems were still looking for the island. All I had to do was not tell them where it was. All the Elves had to do was not do anything that would give it away."

"How'd they find it?"

"You have to go _way_ back for that one, too. Not too many humans live on the island now, but they used to. Then they started to build technology, and what you would call an advanced civilization. The Elves didn't want that. they sent the humans to a different island nearby. They should've sent them farther. A few years ago, their factory smoke got so bad that the gleems could see it. Once they found that island, I could only delay a little before they found ours, but it was long enough for Latano to recruit a spy."

"One of your group?"

"Tandro. He found the gleems when they came and made a big show about how he was sick of Elven ways, how I had showed him the real world, how violent humans are, and how he wanted to help Athos help them find peace."

"Peace?"

"That's his goal. But peace controlled by force isn't peace. It's a stand-by. And it never lasts."

"Athos is the gleems' leader?"

"That's right."

"Have you tried talking to him, try to convince him he's wrong?"

Peter smiled warmly. "_That_, my friend, is our real goal. We can only delay they gleems by fighting. But if we can convince their leaders, we have a chance to stop them forever."

* * *

Hmmmm . . . not a bad idea. We'll see if he lives to try it again, huh? Muahahahahaha.


	7. Protection and Merry Men

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine. The Woodland Wanderers are my friends, so technically I don't own them. I own . . . quite a collection of Magic School Bus tapes from when I was in kindergarden. :)

* * *

Chapter Seven

"You have an interesting classroom," Rona said with a smile.

"I take it this kind of thing is normal for you?" D.A. asked.

"What? Fighting? Yes. It's become a way of life for us, fighting to protect our friends, to protect people like you."

"Why don't you let us protect ourselves?"

"Because even if you somehow manage to repel the gleems' original attack, you will not kill all of them. They will wait, in secret, for years, training new warriors, until humanity forgets them."

"That could take a long time."

"Yes, but not forever. Once you stop thinking of them as an immediate threat, they will fade from memory."

"I guess you're right."

"We were that way once about the Roaks."

"Roaks?"

"Bear-like creatures, ten feet or taller. They used to terrorize the entire island. Then they calmed down. Got bored, I guess. We didn't think of them as a threat anymore. They took us by surprise, destroyed a whole village. It was never rebuilt, and there was only one survivor."

"You?"

"Oh, no. This was a long time ago. It was a ten-year-old human a family of elves had taken in as their own. He'd wandered onto the island after his own parents were killed by the gleems."

"Peter?"

Rona nodded. "He and his foster brother were captured when the village was destroyed. He saw his own brother die because of the Roaks' cruelty."

"Does he . . . mind you telling me this?"

"He'd rather have me tell you than have to tell you himself. He doesn't see himself as a hero."

"What about you?"

"I'm a pretty typical Elf, or used to be. I know a little medicine. I've fought in my share of battles, been wounded more times than I can count. I talk to birds and love to climb trees. Like I said, pretty typical of an Elf."

"What did you mean by _'was'_?"

"We were banished from the Elf-villages two years ago this winter. When that happened, all trace of normality vanished."

"You're outlaws?"

"Robin Hood and his Merry Men had nothing on us."

"What'd you do?"

"We helped the gleems' leader escape from the Elves."

"Why?"

Rona had secretly been hoping she wouldn't ask. She could give a lot of reasons, that was for sure. Peter and Morgan had too strong a sense of compassion for their own good. No one deserved to die in the Elves' dungeon. But she decided to stick with logic.

"Athos' second-in-command, Angelica, believes they should just let the gleems loose over the whole world. And she would if the Elves had killed Athos, which they would've. We couldn't let that happen." She didn't mention that Angelica was Eric's sister.

"Makes sense," D.A. nodded.

"Didn't to the Elves."

"I guess Robin Hood didn't make much sense to the Sheriff of Nottingham, either."

"Yes, but you mustn't blame the Elves. They did what they thought was right. And what their law required of them."

"Not much room for interpretation in their rules, huh?"

"That's what happens when you do everything by the book."

* * *

**UltimateSora–**Muahahaha. Strange people rule! But rule what, that is the question. 


	8. A Choice

Disclaimer: I do not own The Magic School Bus. These other weirdos are my friends. (_Yes, I _am_ calling you weird; do you deny it? No? I didn't think so. Now sit back and let me type or I'll never get to finish this story and everyone will be very angry. There. That's a good elf_.)

Chapter Eight

* * *

"Morgan, how old are you?" Phoebe asked.

"Fourteen. I know. I'm short. I look younger."

"No; I was about to say you looked older."

"Me, too," Arnold agreed. "I don't know why."

"I knew there was something I liked about you two. I almost hoped you wouldn't end up volunteering, for your sakes."

"We'd never hear the end of it," Arnold explained.

Morgan shook her head. "You said and did what these people have come to expect from you. Both of you did. But in your hearts, you'd made up your minds early on."

Arnold stopped in his tracks. "How'd you know?"

"I can read expressions, body language, voices, better than most people. Noka taught me. I know good intentions when I see them. A gift from God, I guess."

"You believe in God?" Phoebe asked as they started to walk again. "Even after all you've seen?"

"See, there it is again. Some part of you knows some of what I've seen. But to answer your question, yes. Even stronger because of everything I've seen. You have no idea - actually, you probably _do_ have some idea - how many times he's saved us from complete destruction."

"But why do the gleems even exist, then?" Arnold asked.

Morgan shrugged. "They weren't always trying to take over the world, I guess. Then one day they figured that because they didn't fight amongst themselves, as we did -"

"They were better than us?" Arnold asked.

"No, look deeper."

"We should be more like them," Phoebe suggested.

"Exactly. But they knew humankind would only listen to one of their own. And they had no leadership whatsoever. So they chose a human child, raised him as their leader."

"They kidnapped him?" Phoebe asked in horror.

"No. In fact, they saved his life. The child had been abandoned on the streets, with his twin brother."

"What happened to his twin?" Arnold asked.

"The gleems chose Athos and took the other baby, Aramis, to the steps of a church. He was found there and raised as a priest."

"Athos, Aramis. There's something missing," Phoebe said.

"Porthos!" Arnold exclaimed. There was an awkward silence. "How did I know that?"

"I don't know," Morgan shrugged. "You've never heard of The Three Musketeers?"

"Briefly, but I never heard them by name before," a bewildered Arnold replied.

"That's very interesting," Morgan said with a goofy imitation of Jack Sparrow. "This could put us in even greater danger."

"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked.

"The three of us seem to have some sort of telepathic link. It's weak now, but it will grow as we spend more time together. Such a think would make the two of you invaluable to the gleems. It might be you they're after."

"But how would they know?" Arnold asked.

"I don't know, but if they've somehow found out, this could be trouble." She put her fingertips on her forehead, calling on a telepathic link she knew was stronger. She knew telling Peter would be no good. He'd rush over there and trade places with her in an instant. She knew she was the best one to work with these two. She needed someone who wouldn't jump at a sudden impulse to help.


	9. An Explanation

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

"You're keeping something from me," Tim insisted. "Whatever it is, Latano, I can handle it."

Latano sighed. He would've expected this kind of persistence, maybe, from Morgan, or Balo, or Peter. But this just proved his theory. "All right," he said at last, "but I have to start by telling you a story."

"Go ahead."

"But I have a question first."

"Shoot."

"How old are you?"

"Eight."

"Several years ago, quite a few of the gleems disagreed with how Athos was doing the job of being their leader. They wanted to start again. They secretly kidnapped a family of three, a mother, a father, and infant son, and planned to raise the child as their new leader, but still learning human ways so as to understand the people he was to rule. They planned to kill Athos, of course.

"Thanks to an extremely loyal group of gleems, Athos found out, sent the family back, and was able to convince the group he knew enough about human ways. But not before the loyal group formed an extreme hatred for the family."

"Why are you telling me this?" Tim asked, though he had a feeling he already knew.

"This happened nine years ago. You are the baby, and _you _are the reason the gleems chose _here_, of all places."

"How . . . . how do you know this?"

"Eric told me. He recognized you. He used to work for the gleems. He also recognized this place. He was the one who was sent to escort your family home. By the way, he said to tell you how brave your parents are."

"What did he mean?"

"They wouldn't cooperate with the gleems' plans. They said they'd tell you every moment of every day that the gleems were wrong. If you want more details, you'll have to ask them. Eric didn't tell me any more. He probably doesn't remember more."

"Why?"

"That's a story he'll have to tell you." Just as he was considering beginning the story himself, he heard a voice in his head.

_"Latano?"_

_"Yes, go ahead, le Fay,"_ he replied.

_"Arnold and Phoebe are in danger."_

_"So is Tim."_

_"Then our guess was right."_

_"Both guesses. Any way I can help?"_

_"No; I just thought I should tell someone."_

_"And I was most likely to stay put because I've already got my hands full?"_

_"Exactly. Hannon le."_

_"No problem, le Fay. Namarie."_

_"Namarie."_


	10. Footballs and Amoebas

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine.

* * *

"Hey, look what the gym class left out!" Carlos called when they reached the gym. "Hey, Balo, catch!"

Balo caught the football easily and threw it back.

"Man, your friends need to lighten up; they act like this is the end of the world."

"Oh, trust me; they're not always like this. Only before a battle. Normally, they're so wild, it's annoying. This one time we all went rafting and they couldn't have been wilder."

"Ms. Frizzle changed us into salmon once," Carlos volunteered.

"I knew there was something fishy about you."

"Hey, good one, Balo! We've been to outer space, too. Twice. The beginning was a real _blast._"

"Peter and Noka flew in a hot air balloon before. But I'll bet it was nothing like outer space."

"Nope. There's a _world_ of difference. We learned how to fly from a bird before, but that's a pretty long _tail_."

"Cool. Noka talks to birds."

"That's not too strange. Ms. Frizzle talks to Liz all the time."

"You ever been turned into an amoeba?"

"No, but we've been about the same size. Why?"

"Morgan's sister changed Athos into an amoeba before."

"I'll bet D'artangan was upset about the _little_ change."

Balo laughed. "I forgot to tell you. Athos is the leader of the gleems."

"Back to reality, then, huh? So does Morgan's sister have a porta-shrinker or something?"

"Um . . . or something."

"But she's not here with you?"

"No."

"Did she change him back? Or are the gleems led by an amoeba?"

"Neither. He changed himself back, unfortunately."

"I guess that made your problem _bigger_, huh?"

"I guess so."

* * *

**theUltimateSora – **Yes, poor Tim. 

**xWhiteXstaRx – **That's okay, I haven't really watched it in a while because my brother's not too fond of it and my sister doesn't like to just sit around and watch cartoons. (sigh) She's never heard of relaxing. :) But I still try to watch it when I can. Maybe I can convince my teacher to show it in science. :) He showed Bill Nye, so there's a little hope.


	11. Welcome to our World

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

"There they are," Latano said, his voice as calm as ever.

"Where?" Tim asked.

"_Way_ off in the distance. But they'll be here soon enough. They're fast." The Elf expertly fit an arrow to his small bow. "As you probably guessed, the range of these things isn't very good. But neither are theirs. Now, Tim, I'm only guessing they're here for you, but if I tell you to run, I need you to run and find another group."

"I won't leave you!"

"Tim, your loyalty is appreciated, but not necessary. The gleems are not trying to kill me. They prefer prisoners. They may be trying to kill you. But we don't have any more time to argue this." He let an arrow fly. Then, as an afterthought, "I hope you're good at dodgeball."

* * *

"Someone hit something," Noka said confidently. Ms. Frizzle, who had donned a pair of sunglasses, looked where he was pointing as her Elven companion aimed and fired.

"Good aim," she commented.

"Try yours," the Elf suggested. "It shouldn't be too hard for someone who's as good at pinball as you."

"How'd you know about that?"

"A little bird told me," he joked as he fired again. This time, his fire was returned. It missed its target, but made Liz take shelter in Ms. Frizzle's dress. Just then, a robin flew down from the top of the building and perched lightly on Noka's shoulder.

"Glad you made it, Rose," Noka smiled. "Rose: Liz, Ms. Frizzle. Liz, Ms. Frizzle: Rose. A sort of 'seeing eye bird.' A fellow warrior." He aimed again. Rose chirped a little. He lowered his bow a little. Rose chirped again, slightly lower-pitched. He fired.

* * *

"Is it just me, or is that bow a little small for you?" Ralphie asked. "You're not an Elf."

"And I'm not quite human! So what am I? I know, I know. Whatever I am, I do a lousy imitation of Shinzon," Peter laughed as he aimed again. "But, really, anything else would be too big to carry at the same time as a sword. And, believe me, you'll need your sword."

"Oh, dear. Any last-minute pointers?"

"Yeah," Peter smiled as he pulled Ralphie out of the way of an arrow. "Don't get hit, mellon nin."

* * *

"There, hold it like that," Morgan instructed, guiding Phoebe into an aiming position. "There, now let go." Phoebe did. The arrow flew a couple of feet.

"Um . . . yeah," Morgan nodded. "Pull back more . . . a lot more. There, now point it a little lower than that . . . perfect. Let 'er fly."

This time the arrow flew straight. It didn't hit anything, but Morgan knew it would attract attention. "Both of you, if I say to run, run, fast. I have a feeling we'll still be able to communicate. Good job, Arnold, but not so tense. It'll affect your aim. Relax."

"Relax? How am I supposed to relax?"

Morgan fit an arrow to her bow. "Concentrate, but let go. Like this." Her arrow flew up, barely missing one of the shapes in the distance. "It'll be easier when they come closer," Morgan assured them.

"Closer!" Arnold exclaimed, gripping his bow tight.

Suddenly, an arrow came flying right at the frozen boy. Morgan tackled him to the ground, placing herself in the arrow's path. She barely suppressed a scream as it hit her shoulder. Phoebe quickly returned the fire, then rushed to Morgan's side.

"I'm all right," Morgan insisted, pulling the arrow from her shoulder. "Welcome to my world."

* * *

**Saki –** beep, beep.

**xWhitexStaRx – **:) Wish our teacher showed Bill Nye more often. But, then, school's out, so there's really no point in wishing for that. :)

**the ultimateSora – **Yes, we all like Carlos. :)


	12. A Few Problems

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine.

**Chapter Twelve**

**

* * *

**

"There you go, Tim; you've got it," Latano nodded as Tim let an arrow fly.

"What do you mean? I didn't hit anything!" Tim was frustrated. The gleems were coming closer, and their aim was definitely getting better. Latano seemed an expert at dodging arrows while still shooting, but Tim barely managed to step out of the way in time.

Before Latano could explain that few people were this good at archery after only a few minutes' practice, there was a loud shriek from directly behind them.

Latano turned abruptly, sword drawn, to face two gleems ready for a fight. "I've got them; keep shooting!" the elf called to Tim as they charged. He mentally scolded himself as he blocked one strike after another with amazing skill. How could he have been so careless? They'd snuck up right behind them! If one of them hadn't made such a loud noise . . .

Tim was beginning to have a hard time. Arrows flew at him left and right. He managed to glance back at Latano. One of the elf's opponents was flying away, bleeding, probably to tell the others where they were. Tim tried to shoot, but the gleem was already too far away.

Just then, the other one made it past Latano's defense, plunging his sword into the elf's leg. Before he could realize it, Tim had his sword drawn and drove it into the gleem's shoulder. The creature howled in pain and flew off. It was only then that Tim realized he had let go of his sword.

Latano was breathing hard, but forced himself to his feet. This was only the beginning. "I'm all right," he told Tim; from the look in the boy's eyes, one would've thought it was the end. He handed the boy his own sword and looked around. Picking up a tree branch, he broke off some leaves.

Tim couldn't help a smile. "The return of Thorin Oakenshield," he laughed.

Latano looked the stick over. "It _is_ oak. I'm impressed," he grinned. But inside he was worried. The stick was too big, too heavy for him. If he got tired, he'd have to tell Tim to run for it. And then . . .

Latano pushed the thought from his head. What would happen would happen whether he worried about it or not. Better to focus on the moment.

* * *

Noka could hear the gleems coming closer. Rose chirped, and he understood immediately. He could only get in a couple more shots before they landed. 

Ms. Frizzle noticed, too. She fired one more arrow, which her target somehow dodged in time, and drew her sword.

Suddenly, an arrow came whizzing down out of the sky. It missed both her and Noka, but it hit Rose, who dropped to the ground.

Noka immediately realized, but he couldn't tell exactly how badly the bird was hurt, and he didn't have time to find out. "Liz, take rose inside; try to find a safe spot!" he ordered.

Liz leapt to the ground, picked up the bird, and clambered in through an open window, but not before flashing Noka a little salute, apparently forgetting he couldn't see it.

Noka laughed when Ms. Frizzle told him, but then realized that, with Rose gone, he had to rely completely on himself, his hearing, his instincts. He drew his sword.

This was not going to be easy.

* * *

Ralphie drew his sword as the gleems landed. Peter, too, drew his. "Wait for it," he said. "Let them make the first move." 

But Ralphie didn't listen. He charged headlong into the midst of the gleems. Peter rushed in after him, not sure what on earth had made the boy do that. He blocked Ralphie's back from a sword just in time, careful to avoid another one himself.

Peter kept a close eye on Ralphie, but it didn't look like he needed to. He smiled as he blocked another attack. The boy was a natural. He had instincts, and he knew how to use them.

But he was uncontrolled. He attacked, rather than defended, and did so with a ferocity that surprised both Peter and the gleems. Still, Peter knew he couldn't keep it up forever. He was young, inexperienced. He didn't know how to conserve his strength. Sooner or later, he'd be exhausted.

And then they'd have a problem.

* * *

Morgan got to her feet quickly. The gleems were coming closer, fast. Phoebe had good aim, but not good enough to hold them off forever. 

Morgan drew her sword, a weapon she was more comfortable with, anyway. She tested her right arm, but pain shot up from her shoulder. Not a good idea. Without even thinking about it or really even noticing it, she switched hands.

Arnold, however, noticed. "You're either-handed?"

"Ambidextrous, yes. By necessity. Learned it when I was a little older than you. First time I ran into the gleems, I got hit. Same shoulder. It healed, but not before I'd learned how to do just about everything left-handed. My writing's still a little sloppy, but anything else, I'm just as good left-handed, if not a little better."

"Huh," Arnold smiled as he drew his sword, tested it with his left hand, then wisely decided not to try it right at that moment and switched to his right.

Morgan shrugged. "It's life. It's what I've had to adapt to. We are what our lives have made us."

"Really?" Phoebe asked.

"No, but it'd be easier if it were that simple," Morgan laughed, reminding herself not to quote movies they probably hadn't seen. "Easier, but not as interesting. You're a great archer, Phoebe. But your life didn't make you that. God did. The three of us have some weird mental connection. Our lives didn't make that; we hadn't even ever met before today. It wasn't our choice. It just happened." A few of the gleems landed. "As much as I'm enjoying it, I think we're going to have to put this wonderful philosophical discussion on hold."

Phoebe drew her sword just in time to block an attack. "Good idea!"

* * *

**Silverina **-- Just realized I hadn't updated this in forever. :) Glad you like it. 

**the ultimate Sora -- **Well, people can change when they're under pressure, believe me, and even sweet innocent little girls like Phoebe are capable of learning ways to defend themselves when it's necessary.


	13. Not Safe Out Here

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine. The little quote at the beginning, which is there because I absolutely love this quote, isn't mine, either.

"_If you can't take a little bloody nose, maybe you ought to go back home and crawl under your bed. It's not safe out here. It's wondrous, with treasures to satiate desires both subtle and gross. But it's not for the timid."  
_– Q

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen  
****Not Safe Out Here

* * *

**

Eric was in the middle of a swing of his sword when a crashing noise came through the roof. He pulled back immediately and turned to face the gleems that were landing.

Wanda stood frozen, wide-eyed. "What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?" The gleems were charging. Wanda backed up slowly. Eric didn't notice.

Suddenly, one landed right near her. Wanda screamed, dropped her sword, and ran. Eric quickly whirled around, but she was gone. The gleems weren't concerned with her.

Wanda ran on. Everywhere, people seemed to be fighting. She ran past the library, where the gleems had also broken in, and were attacking Tandro and Keesha. She ran past their classroom, where Dorothy Ann and Rona were equally busy. She ran past the gym, past Carlos and Balo, who didn't notice her, either.

Suddenly, she saw a gleem up ahead, near an entrance to the school. She turned to run the other way, but another was behind her. She barely had time to scream one last, "Hellllllp!" before she was knocked unconscious.

* * *

"That was Wanda!" Carlos called to Balo.

"If you say so," the elf called back.

"But they were headed to the cafeteria; that's on the other side of the school. What's she doing over here?"

"Maybe she ran," Balo suggested matter-of-factly between sword-clashes with an attacking gleem.

"No way!" Carlos objected. "She wouldn't be scared."

"Carlos, war can do strange things to people. Be honest. Why haven't you run? The gleems are blocking the only exits!"

Carlos didn't bother yelling back; he was trying to catch his breath. And it was perfectly true; he was utterly terrified. But he hadn't really considered running.

Maybe you didn't consider it, he realized. Maybe it just happened. For him it was impossible -- the gleems were, indeed, blocking the exits -- so he hadn't even given it a thought. But Wanda had . . .

Try as he might, he couldn't blame her. He was so scared. Any of them could be killed. Was Wanda already dead? Were the people outside? How could any of them survive?

* * *

"Keesha, behind you!" Tandro shouted, just in time. Keesha turned barely in time to block the attack.

She had been distracted; she had seen Wanda run by. Her first impulse was to run, too, but she found she couldn't. It was as if she somehow knew she had to stay. Something inside of her told her she needed to help Tandro.

It was too late to run, now. The gleems had them surrounded. She and Tandro had quickly found themselves hemmed in among the bookcases, but they also provided some form of protection, limited though it was.

Suddenly, an unexpected blow from a sword struck her in the back. The wound wasn't deep; it had been a clumsy stroke, with the broad side of the sword. But the force knocked her over, nearly into Tandro, who turned immediately to protect her.

Just as she was about to get up, Keesha felt something collapse onto her legs. A bookshelf, she realized, but she couldn't move it in the position she was in, and Tandro was occupied with the gleems.

Suddenly, another large bookshelf began to topple. Tandro didn't see it; he was too busy. Keesha barely had time to throw her arms over her head and neck before it fell on both of them.

* * *

Meanwhile, Dorothy Ann and Rona had been backed into a corner together, still fighting, but knowing they couldn't hold out forever.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a window opening. Liz crawled in, carrying a small robin. This didn't create much of a distraction, but it was enough. Perfectly in time, moving in perfect motion, Dorothy Ann and Rona attacked, quickly forcing their way through the startled gleems as Liz scampered back outside.

Rona and Dorothy Ann ran down the hall, the gleems close behind them. They knew what they had to do. They were too greatly outnumbered to fight. All they could do was lead the gleems on a wild goose chase, to keep them from going after the others.

They ran down a hallway and up some stairs. Soon, it was obvious that Dorothy Ann was losing her breath. "Follow me!" Rona yelled. She ran into a classroom and, throwing the window open, motioned for her companion to climb out. Exhausted and at a loss for a better plan, Dorothy Ann climbed out. Rona scrambled out a window next to her.

"Try to climb down!" Rona called, but there were no footholds. They were too high up to jump. How--

Dorothy Ann's thoughts were cut off by a shriek from over to their right. The gleems were coming towards them. Dorothy Ann lost her balance and fell, but found herself caught in midair.

* * *

Down below, Tim heard Dorothy Ann scream. He looked up, startled, not knowing what to think. At that moment, the gleem he'd been fighting swung. Latano threw himself in the way. His stick shattered and the blade continued on to his arm. The wound itself wasn't bad, but the sudden surprise bought the other gleems time to attack.

"Tim, run!" Latano shouted, now defenseless. Tim realized there was nothing else he could do. The elf had told him before that this could happen. Tim's last glimpse of the battle was of a gleem plunging his sword into Latano's side.

Then he ran.

* * *

Rona saw all this from above, and dropped to the ground. She landed on her feet, absorbing the impact as well as any elf. Recovering quickly, she ran to where Latano was still fighting. But was she too late?

* * *

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Tim running towards them, sword drawn. He joined the fight almost instantly, his eyes burning with rage.

Peter didn't ask what had happened. He didn't have to. The thought of what must have happened caused him to fight harder. But rage could only serve for so long, he knew, before panic took over.

Tim wasn't a terrible fighter, but neither was he a natural like Ralphie, and he was in a terrible condition mentally. Peter didn't have to look twice to see that. He knew the feeling well enough.

Latano must have told him, he realized. He must have, or the boy would never have left his side. He could read that, too, in Tim's tortured expression. But what good did it do him to know? How could he possibly help?

Suddenly, trouble came where he hadn't expected it. Ralphie, who had been holding his own rather well, tripped and lost his balance. He caught himself, but not before a sword had struck him in the chest. Blood stained the boy's bright green shirt as Peter and Tim rushed to his aid.

Tim fought his way relentlessly to Ralphie's side. He was propelled by his anger, his rage, but also by desperation. They were now surrounded and outnumbered beyond hope.

Ralphie was on his feet now, but the three of them were being swept steadily apart, and Ralphie was weakening.

Now Tim realized what he had to do. He stopped fighting the flow of the battle, allowed himself to be pulled away from Peter and Ralphie. He saw, vaguely, Ralphie fall again, and Peter rush to his side, this time struck down on the way.

He didn't know what would happen, only that he had to do it, to save whoever else might be alive. They were here for him. So be it.

Tim threw down his sword. "I surrender!"

* * *

"There are more of them coming!" Arnold yelled to Morgan from a few feet away.

"It's all right!" Morgan yelled back. "Don't think about it! Just keep fighting!" Phoebe was already doing a perfect job, and was managing her sword and her thoughts equally well.

Suddenly, all three of them felt a rush from overhead, as if the wind had picked up, but it hadn't. Arnold chanced a look upwards, but could see nothing unusual.

A gleem landed nearby and, to Arnold's surprise, a man leapt off its back and charged into the fight, sword drawn, headed straight for Morgan. The teenager whirled around, startled, but not altogether surprised.

Arnold stared at the man between strikes. He seemed so familiar, but part of him knew this came from Morgan; he had never seen this man before in his life.

He was tall, more than a head taller than Morgan, neither fat nor skinny, simply in shape. He had brown hair with black streaks or black hair with brown streaks; he couldn't tell which. Arnold had a sudden feeling that this was Athos, the leader of the gleems.

Both Arnold and Phoebe tried to make their way over to Morgan, who was now more than occupied, fighting both Athos and the surrounding gleems. But their efforts were fruitless; Athos was driving Morgan steadily away from them, and they were surrounded.

The gleems kept coming, their numbers growing greater. Arnold and Phoebe stood back-to-back, trapped, exhausted. The last thing Arnold remembered was a sword headed for him, and something striking the back of his head. Then everything went black.

* * *

Ms. Frizzle shuddered. She had heard Dorothy Ann scream. That probably meant that she'd been hurt. How many of the others were injured, as well?

"Don't think about it!" Noka called, startling her. How had he known?

Of course, he'd heard it, too, even clearer than she had. But he knew war. There was nothing they could do. Ms. Frizzle, however, was now preoccupied with thoughts of going after Dorothy Ann.

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the gleems began to fly away. "Let them go!" Noka called. Ms. Frizzle lowered her bow, which she had taken out as soon as she could.

"Victory!" she yelled. "Victory!" It was unbelievable! Amazing! They'd just left! "Victory!"

"Idiot!" Noka shouted. "This is not victory! I don't know what to call it, but not victory."

"But they left."

"Are you completely naive or are you just plain dumb, because you're either one or the other," Noka snapped. "Hurry! Help me find the others! If they're even alive."

* * *

"Did you think we wouldn't figure out where you'd gone, Morgan, or why?" Athos asked. "I may not have your talents, but I could still tell they were here. Did you think you could hide the three of them?"

Morgan didn't bother to respond. She needed all of her effort to keep fighting. But her mind was still racing. So Athos knew about all three of them -- Tim, Phoebe, and Arnold. Nearly half the class was in terrible danger, and the gleems wouldn't hesitate to hurt even those who weren't.

"They will have no choice, Morgan," Athos continued. "They will have no choice but to join me. And then you will be defeated. They can read your thoughts, Morgan. They will be a great help to me."

Morgan smiled, not sparing the breath to talk. _"You think they can read my mind any more than you can?"_ she asked in her mind. _"You can hear this, but now what I don't want you to hear."_

_"They are different, Morgan,"_ Athos replied the same way. _"Their connection with you is unique. Your thoughts come to them unbidden by both them and you. Oh, it's dim now, but it will grow."_

_"I trust them; they will not help you. It goes both ways, Athos; I can sense their loyalty, their courage. Oh, it's dim now, but it will grow. They will keep learning, and soon they will understand."_

Athos' eyes burned with fury, but he controlled it well, attacking as before, calmly, under control. Suddenly, an arrow came from above and nearly struck Morgan in the chest. She managed to doge, but dodged right into a waiting stroke from Athos' sword, which sliced into her left shoulder. Another blade, this one belonging to a gleem, struck her across the back of her legs, leaving deep cuts in both and knocking her off her feet. Yet another plunged into her back as she collapsed.

"Let's go!" Athos called, and with fading vision Morgan saw the shapes of Ms. Frizzle and Noka running towards them. Then she was lifted into the air, and knew no more.

* * *

**quantum -- **Yeah, that was a joke. And an allusuion and a little bit of foreshadowing, if you want to get technical like my English teacher last year. :)

**Kellie Crystals -- **Agreed. Poor bird. And poor lots of other people by the time this chapter is over, huh?

**You will never know --** Hmmm, when were my friends and I turned into Anime?

**Nat W. -- **Like I just said, I wasn't attempting Anime. If it came across like that, it wasn't supposed to, and I apologize.

**xWhit3StaRx -- **I really need to update this more often. I didn't realize this many people had reviewed. :)

**the ultimate Sora -- **Man, this is probably the longest chapter I've written on this. Probably because I wanted to throw in something of what was happening with everyone, because everything kinda tied together. Well, some things. Some was just random. :)


	14. Picking up the Pieces

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine. Whatever is left of the rest of these guys when I'm through with this, well, they're not exactly mine, either. I think I've said this before, this exact same way. :) Oh, well. Too late at night to think of something more original.

**

* * *

Chapter Fourteen  
Picking up the Pieces **

* * *

Ms. Frizzle and Noka ran as fast as they could to where the gleems had taken off, but it was too late. They were gone, and they had taken Morgan, Arnold, and Phoebe with them. 

Ms. Frizzle fell to her knees. "How could this happen? They were leaving!"

"Well, they left, all right," Noka sighed. "I guess your victory shout was a little premature."

"I didn't realize–"

"Of course you didn't! You had no way of knowing the gleems were as dangerous as we told you!" Noka exclaimed sarcastically. "Of course not! You think they're going to just fly away for no reason at all? No way! They did what they came here to do, and now they're gone. Gone! And they probably took half your class with them, because that's who they were after!"

"They were after my students? Why?"

"Not all of them, and we're not completely sure," Noka admitted, his voice becoming softer, gentler, his temper beginning to dwindle. "We only have a guess. But they _did_ take Arnold and Phoebe, and Morgan, as well." He sighed and put his arm around Ms. Frizzle's shoulders. "Hey, it's all right. We've handled this before. Trust me. It'll be okay."

Ms. Frizzle blinked the tears out of her eyes. "Thank you, Noka. Even if you just made it all up and they're in terrible danger, thank you, for trying."

"Oh, don't get me wrong; you were all in terrible danger from the moment Latano and I set foot in your classroom. Come on; let's find the others." They headed into the school.

* * *

Balo and Carlos sheathed their swords, utterly surprised. With no kind of warning whatsoever, just as quickly as they had come, the gleems had left. 

Suddenly, they heard footsteps running. Ms. Frizzle and Noka rushed into the gym. "Carlos, you're all right!" Ms. Frizzle exclaimed, engulfing him in a huge hug.

"Yeah, I'm all right." Carlos winced. Though neither he nor Balo had been seriously hurt, they both had minor cuts and bruises, and Ms. Frizzle was squeezing several of them.

"What happened, Noka?" Balo asked. "Why did they leave?"

"They got what they came for. They have Morgan, Phoebe, and Arnold, and maybe others."

"We heard Wanda scream a little ways away from here; Carlos and I think she ran."

Noka accepted the explanation easily. "Dorothy Ann was taken, as well," he added. "We heard her overhead."

Just then, Eric staggered up behind them. "If they got what they came for, then Tim is either with them or dead. I didn't want to tell you before, but I'm completely sure it's him. That kid looks just like his parents."

"What do they have to do with this?" Ms. Frizzle asked, having now released Carlos. "And where's Wanda? She was with you!"

"Weren't you listening to them?" Eric sighed. "She ran. She was scared, and I can't blame her for that, but being alone only put her in worse danger. I would be very surprised if the gleems didn't manage to capture her, and very quickly, at that."

"Wanda would never--"

"Ms. Frizzle, please don't be naive. When push comes to shove, people older and braver than her would still run from a battle. It's human nature; I can't speak for the elves. Our first impulse is always to save our own skins and run like the wind. Anyone who doesn't feel that – feel it, I mean, not necessarily act on it – is either extraordinarily gifted or extraordinarily dumb. Wanda has simply proven she isn't either."

"What about Tim? What does he have to do with this? Why do they want him? Or Phoebe or Arnold? Or Dorothy Ann? Why?"

"Ms. Frizzle, please, try to relax," Eric coaxed. "Come with me; we'll check out the library. Balo, Noka, Carlos, y'all see if there's anyone still in the classroom, though after what you said about hearing Dorothy Ann, I doubt it, unless she ran, too, and Rona's still there. Come on, let's go."

* * *

Carlos was shaking. "Man, I've never seen the Friz lose it like that before." 

"She's always had control, Carlos," Noka pointed out, shaking his head. "She's always been the one calling the shots, making the choices. Now she _has_ no choice but to ride out this storm, and it scares her. I know how she feels, really, I do, but she's going to have to pull herself together, because y'all need her, now more than ever."

* * *

Ralphie groaned and rolled over. They were gone. All gone. They'd flown away, as soon as he'd heard Tim shout his surrender. And they'd taken Tim with them. 

Peter was already getting to his feet. "You all right, Ralphie?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Ralphie felt the slash across his chest. It wasn't deep, but it was bleeding badly, soaking his t-shirt.

"Here," Peter offered, taking some cloth out of a pocket in his cape. "Stay still." He helped Ralphie sit up a little, then bandaged the wound. "It's okay; it looks a lot worse than it is."

Ralphie nodded, but it not only looked worse; it felt worse. He tried to sit up more, but collapsed back into Peter's arms. "It's all right," Peter assured him, and gently lifted the boy.

They headed around to the south side of the school. "Peter!" came Rona's voice. "Peter, over here!" Peter stumbled over, somehow still holding onto Ralphie. He set the boy down and knelt down beside him.

Latano was lying on the ground, unconscious, a pool of blood forming around him on the ground. "My gosh," Ralphie whispered.

Peter took some more cloth out of his cape. "How is he, Rona?"

"Terrible," Rona answered honestly, taking the cloth. "And the rest of you?"

"Ralphie and I are all right. Tim surrendered to the gleems; he's alive. I don't know about anyone else."

"Dorothy Ann was captured, too," Rona nodded without looking up, continuing to bandage Latano's wounds. "We were climbing out that window when she fell. The gleems caught her. Tim heard her and looked up. He was distracted. Latano saved him, but he'd been using a stick; I don't know why. It broke, and he told Tim to run." Ralphie noticed she was speaking in short sentences, as if anything longer would make it more real, more emotional. She was trying to keep herself together, for the others' sakes.

"Tim ran over to us," Peter nodded with the same control. "So then you ran over to help Latano."

"Yes," Rona agreed, even though it wasn't really a question to begin with. "A little while ago, the gleems just flew away."

"When Tim surrendered," Peter agreed. "It's him they wanted."

"Not . . . just him," Latano coughed. "Morgan . . . told me . . . Arnold . . . Phoebe . . . we were right."

"Blast," Peter whispered, now desperately trying to maintain the control he had over his words, trying not to frighten Ralphie, trying not to make him think the situation was worse than it was by a mischoice of words. "They must have been taken, then, or the gleems wouldn't have left. That means Morgan . . . Latano, I should never have left her."

Latano smiled weakly. "That's why she . . . didn't tell you . . . knew you'd . . . want to help . . . wouldn't . . . do any good . . . she knows . . . what she's doing . . . she can help them . . . I failed."

Peter took Latano's hand in his. "Don't even think that for a second. Tim is all right, thanks to you. They would have killed him, believe me, if he hadn't surrendered – as long as Athos wasn't with them – and you were the reason he knew he had to. I know it couldn't have been easy for you to tell him, but you did. And knowing saved his life."

Latano coughed, trying to catch his breath. "Thanks, Peter."

"My pleasure, mellon nin."

Ralphie watched the two with curiosity, and for a brief moment, he understood what he was seeing. This was friendship shining at its brightest, through the darkness of failure and doubt. This was courage in one of its most unrecognizable forms, unique and wonderful. This was what held the group together, this kind of friendship, hope, courage, this kind of love.

Then, after that brief moment, it was all gone, and Peter and Latano were once again simply an old man and a wounded elf, comrades on the battlefield of life.

* * *

Carlos shook his head. "There's no one in here." 

"Didn't expect there to be," Noka agreed honestly. "Dorothy Ann didn't seem the type."

"And Wanda did?" Carlos asked.

"Quite frankly, yes, she did. Come on, let's go check outside."

It wasn't long before they found Rona, Peter, Ralphie, and Latano, and the seven of them went back into the library, Peter carrying Latano, Carlos helping Ralphie. There they found Ms. Frizzle and Eric, who had uncovered Keesha and Tandro. Both were hurt, but not badly. Liz also showed up, carrying Rose, who, to Noka's delight, Rona said would be fine.

"Well," Eric said, looking around at everyone, now seated among the rubble of books and bookshelves and computers. "I guess it's about time we explained."

* * *

**Lesley88 -- **Well, glad to see you stopped at the second chapter if you thought it was that dumb. :) To each their own, mellon nin.

**the Ultimate Sora -- **Yeah, that kind of just came to me. Wanda always seemed like a bit of a weasley wimp herself; now she got a chance to prove it, and she did a wonderful job of proving me right. :) Amazing how that happens to authors. :)


	15. A Fool's Hope

Disclaimer: Whatever is left of these people when this fic is over is not mine. Yes, I mean that. Not kidding about the 'whatever is left' part.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Fifteen  
A Fool's Hope**

Ralphie, Carlos, and Keesha huddled around Ms. Frizzle, the only ones remaining of their class. Across from them sat Peter with Latano in his arms, Tandro leaning back against a bookshelf for support, Balo, Rona, and Noka close together, and Eric, right next to Peter, his ice blue eyes fixed on the kids and their teacher.

"So that's it, is it?" Ms. Frizzle asked. "They want Tim dead, and they want Phoebe and Arnold to join them so they can know exactly what Morgan is thinking?"

"No," Eric sighed, clearly frustrated about being misunderstood after at least ten minutes of trying to explain the situation. "I don't know exactly how deep their mental connection with Morgan goes, but I doubt they can read her mind -- yet. Athos may hope that they will eventually develop that kind of bond, but it's really far more likely that they never will, that, regardless of what he says, he's simply looking for a couple of allies that Morgan clearly cares for.

"As for Tim, it's only a very small group of them that want him dead. I don't know exactly what Athos wants with him, but he may hope that he can calm them down by convincing Tim to join him. Trust me, Mr. Frizzle, it is ridiculously unlikely that he wishes to kill any of them.

"As far as the others go, they're really of absolutely no use to him. Wanda he may see as an easy target and Dorothy Ann may well see the logic in his point of view, but neither of them is in any real danger."

"What about Morgan?" Keesha asked, noticing he had purposely left her out of the discussion.

Peter answered for him. "Morgan knows what she's doing. She knew what she was doing from the moment she set foot in this school, possibly before. She can handle this."

Ms. Frizzle turned to Eric again. "You seem so sure, so confident you know exactly what these people want, these gleems and this Athos fellow. How? They may want something completely different. How can you be so sure Athos won't kill them, that he doesn't want Tim dead? How can you know?"

Eric met Ms. Frizzle's gaze with a cold stare. "Ms. Frizzle, I worked with them for over twenty years. I was very close to Athos and really know where he stands morally. He has a terrific conscience as well as a clever mind. He probably knows everything I just told you, including that Phoebe and Arnold will probably not prove all that useful to him."

"What _may _prove to be a problem for us," he added, "is Wanda. She told me quite a bit about your different fieldtrips, and if she tells Athos _anything_, even by accident, he may well be able to force the rest out of her."

"Why Wanda?" Ms. Frizzle snapped.

"Because of all your students, Ms. Frizzle, she was the only one who ran. She was the one student who let her fear get the better of her. And, as if that weren't enough, she was with me. She knows I used to work with the gleems. She may easily decide that they're right, and that could prove disastrous. It will be bad enough if she helps him unknowingly or under threat of force. If she willingly tells him everything, we're in trouble. And she may. Athos is rather persuasive."

"So what do we do?" Carlos asked no one in particular.

There was a weird silence. "I have a plan," Peter said at last.

* * *

Athos held his head high, facing the wind, letting it blow through his hair as they rode back to the tower. The sky was growing darker as they flew further west, changing time zones. Athos smiled. He loved this feeling, flying into the early morning and letting it grow earlier, almost like turning back time.

Strange, he thought, that people always said, "May the wind be at your back." It felt great with the wind rustling through his hair, sweeping it back. Such a strange phrase. Something to mention to Morgan. She'd get a good laugh and then probably make a joke about it not feeling so great when you're running cross-country. She could always do that, see a different side, see good where other people saw bad and bad where other people saw good. In either case, it drove people crazy, but it was a gift that Athos loved.

Athos looked down. They were high, but it didn't bother him. He loved the free feeling of the air, the sky, of almost being able to touch the stars. The ocean was beneath them, calm and dark in the dim light of the now early morning.

Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, the island came into view. Athos grinned and, whistling the theme from Jurassic Park, ordered them down.

"You're insane," Ms. Frizzle shouted upon hearing Peter's plan. "It'll never work! No way!"

"Only a fool's hope?" Peter mumbled, trying to ignore a pounding headache that wasn't helped by her shouting.

"Very funny, Peter. You're asking me to march up to Athos, tell him I want to join him, and then tell him exactly how much help I can be."

"No. I'm asking you to tell him only what Eric thinks will be enough to get his attention, and put up a good enough act for him to believe you. And I'm asking you to take Keesha, Carlos, or Ralphie with you for effect, and to help you."

"I won't endanger my students' lives!"

"You may be doing so by delaying!" Eric yelled.

"I thought you said they didn't want to kill them!"

"Do you think there is nothing worse than death?" Eric shot back.

"Well, you would know, wouldn't you?" Ms. Frizzle spat as both of them stood up.

"Suppose I say yes. What would you say?"

"That you should never have joined them in the first place!"

"And I would be the first to agree with you!"

"So wisdom is twenty years overdue!"

Eric glared at Ms. Frizzle coldly, then turned and ran out of the room. Ms. Frizzle ran out the other door. Noka and Balo immediately jumped up and raced out, Balo after Eric, Noka after Ms. Frizzle.

Keehsa, Ralphie, and Carlos looked at each other. Carlos turned to Peter. "What do we do?"

"Exactly what we were planning to do, except the three of you will take Ms. Frizzle's place. Rona, stay here with Latano."

"I'm fine," Latano insisted.

"Hogwash, and you know it. You're lucky you're still alive. No arguing right now; time is of the essence. Tandro, you're with me; looks like it's just the five of us." He set Latano down gently near Rona. "Take care of yourself."

Latano smiled weakly. "You, too."

Peter turned to the students. "Close your eyes."

They all did, and the wind started to whirl around the room. It blew faster and louder, harder and stronger. But then, all of a sudden, it stopped completely, and all that could be heard was a gentle breeze.

* * *

**the ultimateSora -- **Man, I love ending there. Just enough suspense but not exactly a cliffhanger. :) Hmmmm, so you think Wanda will keep being a weasely wimp? We'll have to see.


	16. Echoes of Dreams

Disclaimer: Whatever is left of these guys at the end is not mine, though I promise I'm not going to be like Shakespeare and kill everybody. :)

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen  
****Echoes of Dreams**

Tim had been conscious the entire flight, watching everything. Now that they flew down towards the island, he felt calmness wash over him like the waves of the ocean below, though he couldn't say why.

Perhaps, he realized, because there would be no more waiting. Whatever was going to happen, he knew it would probably happen fast, before their classmates and new friends had the chance to mount a rescue.

He couldn't move in his position, being carried by one of the gleems, but he had heard Athos give the order to land, not far behind him. He could see they were flying towards some mountains, and then within the mountains, a tower, a pure white like the snow of its surroundings. It got closer and closer . . .

They landed in front of a door, as white as everything else. The gleems dumped Tim to the ground, none too gently, but he got to his feet easily enough. He wasn't hurt, thanks to Latano, and the flight had given him enough time to rest, catch his breath, let his body relax. And he found it all strangely easy, as if he'd been doing it all his life.

He didn't think of running -- he was surrounded -- but now he had the chance to look around. One by one, the others were placed on the snow beside him. Dorothy Ann was first, and got to her feet, as well. Wanda didn't appear badly hurt, but was definitely paler than he'd ever seen her. Phoebe and Arnold were in slightly worse condition, but thankfully still very much alive. Morgan was last, the only one of the others to be taken. Blood stained her dark green shirt, and now the clean white snow, as well. Tim looked away.

"I quite agree, my young friend," came a voice. Tim and Dorothy Ann looked, and Athos leapt lightly off a gleems' back. "I quite agree," he repeated.

"You're Athos?" Tim asked, though the question was by now quite unnecessary. He knew full well who this man had to be.

"Yes, and you're Tim," Athos nodded. "So good to finally meet you."

Dorothy Ann raised an eyebrow and turned to Tim. "How does he know who you are?"

Athos smiled. "And who might you be?"

"Dorothy Ann. What do you want with us?"

"Always the question-asker, are you? All in good time, Dorothy Ann." He turned to the gleems and motioned to Phoebe and Arnold. "Bring these two with us. Take the other two to the dungeon."

Tim saw Dorothy Ann studying the others frantically, trying to figure out Athos' logic. He was curious, as well, but thought it best not to be so obvious. Better to wait, for now.

"Follow me." Athos motioned to them. Tim did so without hesitation, and Dorothy Ann quickly followed suit. Athos led them down a few hallways, past many rooms. Dorothy Ann stared, wide-eyed. Tim, as well, looked around with fascination, but not so much open surprise. There were obviously a good number of gleems; of course they would have a large tower.

At last, Athos opened a door on their left and they entered a room. It looked surprisingly normal, with a desk, a couch, a couple comfortable chairs, and a window looking out over the mountains. Tim took a seat on the couch without being asked, and Dorothy Ann followed his lead. Phoebe and Arnold were placed beside them. Athos sat down in a chair opposite the four of them. "Good," he smiled. "Make yourselves at home. Nothing worse than being confused _and_ uncomfortable."

"Sure there is," Tim shrugged. "Plenty of things. Such as being confused, comfortable, and having friends who are hurt."

"Strange wisdom coming from someone your age, though I suppose I should no longer be surprised by that. Peter and his Merry Men have been known to hang around with people younger than you."

Tim simply nodded, trying to appear calm, but his mind was racing. So Peter was, indeed, as he had guessed early on, more or less their leader. Why, then, had the gleems left him and taken Morgan, of all people? They'd had the chance. Both Peter and Ralphie had been hurt, he'd been able to tell. Why, then, had the gleems not taken advantage of that? Unless . . .

No, that couldn't be the answer. He wouldn't allow himself to believe that they had been killed. No. No way. There had to be another answer, he thought, hoping it wasn't just his mind and heart denying the truth.

What if Athos wanted him to _think_ they were dead? It was certainly a possibility. But then why take Morgan, who was obviously hurt badly enough for him to make them believe that she was dead.

"Thinking deep thoughts, Tim?" Athos asked, and Tim realized he had spaced out. Athos was watching him closely with his light brown eyes, as if trying to read his thoughts.

Tim decided to tell the truth; better for Athos to know he hadn't been plotting an escape -- yet. "Just a little curious about your choice of prisoners. Six kids . . ." The answer hit him just like that. Six kids. No guidance. No adults to help them make decisions, influence their choices. No one to run to. For all he knew, every single one of the others could have been killed, or, at least, that could be what Athos wanted him to think.

Athos nodded. "Well, a little curiosity is good for you. I have some questions for you first."

"We won't tell you anything?" Dorothy Ann spat.

Athos ignored her. "Did the Woodland Wanderers tell you what we could possibly want at your school?"

"No," Dorothy Ann shrugged.

"Yes," Tim said at the same time, and Dorothy Ann whirled around. "No, I'm not joking, D.A.," Tim shook his head. "They didn't tell the rest of you, but Latano told me. I'm the one they want. This is my fault. I'm the reason you are all in danger."

Athos smiled. "Noble, but not entirely true. You're part of the reason. There are people here who want you dead, Tim."

"So I've heard."

"I am not one of them."

"I guessed. You would have killed me already."

"Indeed. I don't want to hurt you, Tim."

"Then what are you going to do?"

"First of all, tell you what is going on."

"They already did that."

"They told you their version of what is going on, Tim."

"You're trying to take over the world."

"Did they say why? Look at the world, Tim. Look at humanity. They quarrel among themselves like no other species on this planet. Guns, tanks, bombs, nuclear weapons, it doesn't matter. One way or another, they find an excuse to go out and kick each other's butts."

Tim smiled at the casual phrasing. "And the gleems are so different?"

"Yes. Our way is one of peace. Once we have control, we will end war, and with it will go hunger, disease, poverty, you name it, because all humanity will work together as one for the greater good of all."

"Sounds too good to be true."

"Not at all. It will simply take time. That's all that's at stake here, Tim, is a matter of time. The Woodland Wanderers know this. They would tell you freely that their efforts are only delaying what is sure to come. Your friends are brave, Tim, but foolish. Don't make their mistake. Don't think that delay is enough, for even the delay will be short. You have the wisdom to see the truth. Will you let yourself?"

* * *

"Open your eyes," Peter said, but he already knew they were in the wrong place. They were in a forest, easily three or four miles from the tower where they should have been. 

Blast, he thought. He knew they were short on time. Athos would guess they were coming. He wasn't stupid. They had had only a slight chance of making their plan work, and now even that chance was slipping away.

Their plan had been simple enough. Ms. Frizzle, or, as was the case now, Keehsa, Ralphie, and Carlos, would knock on the door and surrender, then tell Athos a little bit of what Ms. Frizzle could do -- flying busses and porta-shrinkers and such -- enough to get him interested, giving Peter and Tandro, hopefully, enough time to sneak in and find a way to release the others. It was simple, foolish, risky -- and it might have worked.

But he had messed up. He was weak and tired, and hadn't concentrated enough.

"Where are we?" Carlos asked. No sooner had the words left his mouth, however, than an army of elves leapt out of the trees.

"Run!" Peter shouted to the kids. "That way! South! There's a tower in the mountains! Go!"

Keesha, Ralphie, and Carlos took off, not without a backwards glance, not without wondering what good their plan was now.

* * *

**the ultimateSora -- **Wow, I actually updated sooner than usual. :) Ummm . . . can't think of anything else to say. What's going to happen with Wanda is, yeah, my call, but it's still up in the air because I have the total inability to believe that anyone is a complete coward. If you don't have something you're willing to fight for, what's the point of living?

Gollum: You would say that.

Smeagol: Yeah, I would. Now go away.

Gollum: Go away?

Smeagol: Not again!


	17. Strength of a Different Kind

Disclaimer: The Magic School Bus is not mine. Neither are the kids or Ms. Frizzle. The others are trembling in fear over here wondering what the author is going to do to them. (Actually, they're about ready to strangle me, but that's beside the point.)

A/N: Well, the powers that be said no more reviewer responses, which really doesn't matter a whole bunch with this story because I can just put it all up here and no one'll care. Elsewhere, it spares me the bother of having to say the same thing over and over and over and answer the same question a dozen times over, mostly regarding why I killed a certain character, which, by the way, will eventually happen here, although I haven't exactly decided who or when. I don't have to yet. I'm the author. :) Just thought I'd warn you. Once I went on a craze and killed off every Woodland Wanderer except Morgan. That was fun. :) Okay, enough rambling. Here's the story . . .

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen  
****Strength of a Different Kind**

Wanda could feel nothing but a splitting headache from the blow of the gleem's sword. She could tell she was lying on her back, but little else. The floor was hard, and cold. Where was she?

At last, she opened her eyes. It was dark; the only light came from a small window high above her, and even that light was dim. The walls of the room, wherever it was, were stone, with one door, dark and wooden.

She was still trembling, she realized. She had been so scared, like she had never been before and hoped she would never be again. She could have been killed. Any of them could have been killed. Had they?

Wanda slowly sat up, looking around as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A figure was lying next to her, asleep or worse. Gradually, she realized it was Morgan. She was not alone! There was someone who knew what was going on!

But that had not helped her before, she realized. Eric had been there, and she had still run. And been captured anyway. Morgan had fought and been captured anyway. What was the point? There was no difference.

Wanda, however, knew that there was a difference, beyond the simple fact that Morgan was still unconscious, probably hurt. Wanda inched closer to the young teenager, and felt for a pulse and breathing. Both were faint, but there.

Her eyes were adjusting more. She could see that Morgan was wounded, her shirt torn and bloody in several places, and the back of her legs had been slashed with a sword. So this was war, Wanda thought, shuddering. She wanted no part of it.

Wanda shook Morgan's shoulder gently, and Morgan groaned softly, turning her head slightly to one side. "Morgan," Wanda whispered.

Morgan slowly opened her eyes. "You don't have to whisper," the teenager said evenly, controlling the pain in her voice. "Wanda, right? My eyes aren't adjusted yet."

"Yeah, it's me. Are you all right?"

"Ay, 'tis a scratch," Morgan joked. "You?"

"I'm fine." But she could tell Morgan was lying. Her face was pale from loss of blood, and sweat outlined her face and neck. "We've got to get out of here," Wanda whispered.

"There's nothing to do but wait," Morgan said. "The door only opens from the outside and it would take a dozen or so gleems to break it down. The window is too high and too small. We're trapped in here."

"Just the two of us?"

"I doubt it, thought the others aren't with us right now. Phoebe and Arnold, at least, were with me; they're probably here, as well."

"They didn't run away?"

"No. I take it you did."

Wanda studied the stone floor. "Yeah, I did."

Morgan placed a hand gently on Wanda's arm. "Hey, it's all right. Not everyone's a warrior, Wanda."

"No, some of us are just weasley wimps."

Morgan struggled to sit up, failing miserably. Wanda put a hand behind her back to help, and was surprised to find her shirt soaked in blood. Morgan winced in pain, but managed to sit up with Wanda's help. Wanda stared at the blood that now coated her hand in disbelief, though she didn't know exactly why she was so shocked.

Morgan noticed the look, her eyes now fully adjusted to the dark. "Yeah, prick me, I bleed. We're human, Wanda. We're not emotionless Vulcans or invulnerable heroes out of Greek myths. We're real. We're just like you."

"You're not just like me."

"In what way?"

"I'm a wimp!" Wanda shouted, looking everywhere but into Morgan's eyes, afraid of the pain she knew was there, all because Morgan had what she lacked.

"Could you do me a favor?" Morgan asked.

"Sure," Wanda nodded, grateful for the apparent change in the subject.

"Could you roll up my shirt a little and press it where the wound is? It'll help to stop the bleeding."

Wanda did as Morgan asked, not without a twinge of guilt, knowing the pain she was causing by helping. "There," Morgan said at last. "I think if I just lie on it now, that'll take care of the rest. Just hold that a sec while I take care of something else." To Wanda's surprise, she removed her shoes, and then her socks. She took the socks and bandaged the backs of her legs with them.

"Clever," Wanda noted as Morgan put her shoes back on and lay down.

"Not at all; it's a well-known remedy, though I would never expect them to teach it in schools. Scouts, maybe, but I doubt even that." She laughed. "And people wonder why I wear long socks."

Wanda smiled down at the teenager. "You're so . . ."

"Go on, finish it. I'm strange. I'm different. I'm weird. I'm insane. I'm crazy. Take your pick; they're all true enough."

Wanda laughed. "You think you're crazy?"

"We all are. Any sane person would have done what you did -- run. I'm sure it crossed your mind that we both ended up in the same place anyway, so why bother getting hurt in the process."

"It did," Wanda admitted.

"I would be surprised -- very surprised -- if it hadn't. Wanda, you're no wimp. No wimp could have done what you just did to help me. At best, a wimp would have complained all the way. A wimp would never have said that we had to get out of here; a wimp would have given up. I have a feeling, Wanda, that once you find something you truly believe is worth fighting for, nothing is going to stop you. When you volunteered, it was to prove you weren't chicken. That's not worth fighting for. The others -- I know for sure Arnold and Phoebe -- get the point. We talked together beforehand, found a common bond, so that when they fought, they weren't fighting against somebody, but _with_ somebody. That can make all the difference."

Wanda raised an eyebrow. Was that it? Had all the others found that connection that she hadn't? She and Eric had talked, but that talk had only fueled her fear. Was that the missing piece of the puzzle. "You think so?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Morgan smiled weakly. "Once you find someone you can work with, trust, rely on, and protect, Wanda, believe me, the gleems won't know what hit 'em."

Wanda smiled. "I think we can consider that done."

Morgan took Wanda's hand in hers. "I agree."

* * *

"Will you let yourself?" The words rang in Tim's mind in the long silence that followed Athos' question. Athos' argument almost made sense. But not enough. Not enough to cancel what Latano had done for him, what he had said, what he had believed.

"Oh, I see the truth," Tim said at last. "I also see where you're coming from. You want to make this a lot easier for both of us by convincing me to join you. You don't have to deal with me, and I don't have to deal with you. Well, it won't be that simple, Athos. You'll find me more of a problem than that."

Athos simply smiled. "I must admit, I expected as much from you, Tim. You're your parents' son, through and through; I'm impressed." He took a whistle from around his neck and blew it. Half a dozen gleems came rushing through the door. Athos nodded and two of them took Tim by the arms. The boy struggled, but it was no use. They were soon out the door.

Dorothy Ann watched them go. "What're you going to do to him?"

Athos got up and closed the door. "Nothing, for the moment. I'll deal with him later. Some problems are best postponed until the last possible moment. I want to give him time to think. And," he added, "I want to talk to the three of you."

He moved towards the couch. Dorothy Ann jumped up, ready to defend her friend. Athos smiled, clearly amused. "Two Halflings, and a host of gleems at my call."

_"A chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality,"_ came a voice inside his head.

_"Very funny, Kenobi,"_ Athos shot back. Then, to Dorothy Ann, "Don't worry; I will not harm them." He came slightly closer. "I can tell you're awake," he smiled.

Phoebe sat up first, and Arnold quickly followed. "Now," Athos nodded. "Shall we talk?"

"About what?" Arnold asked, not letting Athos know how much of the conversation he and Phoebe had actually heard.

"Oh," Athos shrugged, "of shoes, and ships, and ceiling wax, of cabbages and kings."

"And why the sea is boiling hot?" Phoebe asked.

"And whether pigs have wings," Athos finished, nodding.

Dorothy Ann crossed her arms. "Are you going to quote every single thing in the history of literature or are you going to tell us what is going on?"

Athos smiled. "All in good time, Dorothy Ann. All in good time."


	18. Alone

Disclaimer: I haven't updated in forever, but that doesn't make it mine.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen  
****Alone**

"Ms Frizzle!" Noka called out. "Ms. Frizzle! Wait up!"

Ms. Frizzle stopped running, finally realizing that she wasn't going to lose the elf; her shoes on the hard floor of the school made too much noise. "What do you want, Noka?" she asked.

"Look, I know you're worried about your students, but you're not going to help them by losing control and running away."

"Don't you get it? This is my fault! I'm constantly telling them to take chances, and look what finally happened!"

Noka smiled. "I may be blind, but I can certainly see what happened. Your students, for the most part, reacted to a terrifying situation with control and courage. A good part of the reason for that is you. You taught them to take chances. You taught them to keep trying.

"But a teacher teaches by example as much as by words. As soon as you realized the danger, that lives could actually be lost, people hurt -- people like me, like Latano -- and that people could fight and be captured, or run and be captured, that war is often a no-win scenario -- as soon as that happened, you panicked. You lost control. I can only hope that Keehsa, Ralphie, and Carlos have not. It will be hard for them to realize that their role model their hero, their teacher, is just as human, just as afraid, just as vulnerable as they are. It's a hard lesson to learn."

"I've always been there for them. I've always been able to help. Now . . ."

"Now you have a unique opportunity, Ms. Frizzle. Most people in your position never get the chance to see their life lessons put into action, a chance to see just how much you've taught them. Your students, Ms. Frizzle, have learned well, and you're watching the final exam."

"I thought the battle would be that test."

"No. A quiz only. Anyone can make the decision either to fight or not to fight. As a whole, they passed the quiz with flying colors."

"And Wanda?"

"She failed. But she can learn from that failure. Trust me, no one will feel worse than her about the fact that she ran away. But she can change that. It's up to her. What do you think?"

Ms. Frizzle smiled. "I know Wanda. She'll come back fighting."

Noka nodded. "Well, let's get back to the others. They'll be waiting for us."

* * *

When they reached the library, however, it was obvious that the others had not waited. Only Rona and Latano remained, though Ms. Frizzle and Noka were quickly followed through the door by Eric and Balo.

"Is Latano all right?" asked Eric, the first to notice that the elf was unconscious.

Rona didn't look up from her friend. "Nice of y'all to show up," she said sarcastically. "I don't know; he passed out a few minutes ago, just after the others left."

"Left?" Ms. Frizzle shouted. "Where did they go?"

"I should think it would be painfully obvious," Rona said, undaunted by the fact that Ms. Frizzle was again in a panic. "They went to rescue the others. They didn't have time to wait for you, or so Peter said. Since he is the only one who can get us there, I suggest y'all have a seat, especially you, Ms. Frizzle, before you faint."

Ms. Frizzle did as she was told, her face pale. "They're gone. They're all gone."

"Do I hear an echo in here? Yes, they left. They're gone. They're no longer here. How else do you want me to say it before it sinks into your head?"

"Boy, someone's in a bad mood," Noka commented. "Is he that bad?"

Rona finally looked up. "Noka, I don't know what's going on. I thought he'd be fine. He was hurt pretty badly, but he seemed like he was going to be okay."

"Seemed being the key word, Rona." He felt his way over and sat down next to his friends. "He didn't want y'all to worry and delay on his account. Once the others left, he could stop the acting. So how is he really?"

Rona sighed. "Terrible. But there's absolutely nothing I can do now. Nothing but ride out the storm, wait and see what happens. It's out of our hands now." She sighed. "Come to think of it, so is everything else. We can't help this class, we can't help Peter and Tandro, and we can't help Latano."

"What about Morgan?" Eric asked. "If we can talk to her . . ."

"Probably wouldn't do any good. She'll tell us if anything happens. But if you care to amuse yourself, go ahead."

_"Morgan? Morgan?"_

_"Eric?" _came the reply, and Eric couldn't help noticing that even telepathically, the teenager sounded weak.

_"Yeah,"_ he said anyway, ignoring it._ "What's going on?"_

_"Nada. Wanda and I are in the dungeon."_

_"Oh, joy. The others?"_

_"Don't know. I was unconscious for a while. Who else is here?"_

_"Phoebe, Arnold, Tim, and Dorothy Ann."_

_"What a wonderful assortment, but besides Dorothy Ann, no real surprises. I'll pass that on to Wanda. How're y'all doing?"_

_"Peter, Tandro, and the other kids are on their way."_

Eric heard a slight pause, but then Morgan corrected him._ "Nope. Just the kids. Peter says he and Tandro ran into the elves."_

_"Oh, beautiful. I probably shouldn't tell the folks back here, should I?"_

_"No need to get them all jumpy. How're the rest of you holding up?"_

_"Ms. Frizzle's about ready to either faint or pulverize something, can't tell which. Rona, Noka, Balo, and I are fine. Latano . . . he was hurt pretty badly, le Fay."_

_"Give it to me straight, Eric. I can't stand people beating around the bush with things like this, and you know it. You sound like a doctor."_

_"Rona can't do anything, but he's still alive."_

There was another pause. _"Peter says to tell you to tell Latano that he shouldn't have bothered trying to hide it; he could tell anyway."_

_"Wonderful. I'll tell him, but I doubt he was doing it for Peter's sake."_

_"True, too."_

_"By the way, how's Wanda?"_

_"She's fine. She wasn't hurt badly, and I finally managed to convince her that the world isn't divided into warriors and wimps, that it was a completely normal and human reaction for her to run."_

_"Thank you, Spock."_

_"Ha, ha. See ya, Eric."_

_"Later, le Fay."

* * *

_

"So . . . how do you do it?" Wanda asked when Morgan explained that she'd been talking to Eric.

"It's something that grew over time. It was faint at first; I could only sense really strong emotions or really short messages. But I kept using it, and now we can just talk, just think what we want to say, and we hear each other perfectly."

"Cool. What'd he say?"

"Phoebe and Arnold are here, as I'd guessed. So are Tim and Dorothy Ann. A rescue is on the way."

Wanda's face brightened. "Great!"

Suddenly, the door was flung open. Half a dozen gleems rushed in. Two of them dumped Tim, still struggling, next to Wanda and Morgan. Two more grabbed Morgan and dragged her to her feet, hauling her towards the door.

Wanda and Tim started to get up, but Morgan yelled back. "No! Wanda, Tim, stay here! It'll be all right! Trust me!" It was all she had time to say before the gleems dragged her out and slammed the door behind them.

Wanda just stared after her. There were a million questions she wanted to ask, but now it hit her. She might never get the chance to ask them.

* * *

Keehsa, Ralphie, and Carlos kept running until they were way out of sight of the elves, who hadn't bothered giving chase. Finally, all three of them stopped to catch their breaths.

"Is it just me," Ralphie panted, "or is our plan ruined?"

Carlos shook his head. "It's ruined."

"Oh, bad, oh, bad, oh, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad," Keesha agreed.

Carlos nodded. "Bad enough that the Friz isn't here. Now we don't have anyone here with us."

"At least we know where we're going," Ralphie pointed out, motioning in the direction of the path, which, as far as they could see, kept going south.

"But we don't have a plan!" Carlos objected.

"We don't have a choice," Ralphie argued. "It's up to us now. I say we head that way."

Keesha nodded. "We have to do something."

"All right," Carlos agreed. "How far do you think it is?"

Ralphie shrugged. "Who knows? We'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

Muahahaha. "We'll just have to wait and see." "Listen, I just heard the most wonderful news. They say he has arrived in these parts." "Our King?" "Yes, and that he is on the move. They say he will likely appear at the Stone Table at any time now!" "This is wonderful news." "Mr. Centaur, we are expecting the arrival of children, human children! They could be here at any minute! If they reach him, the prophesy will be fulfilled!" "But what if the witch gets to them first?" "We must protect the children from the moment they arrive until they reach the Stone Table." "And keep them hidden from the witch." "Exactly." "But which of us can help them? They might be afraid of me." "They might not trust me. Unicorns are only make-believe in their world." "Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, will you help them, protect them from danger?" "But . . . but . . ." "It's this way." "Over here." "Look for the lamppost!" "They're coming. Will you please protect them?" "But . . but . . . " "Of course. I'll go and prepare for supper." "Mr. Centaur, let us go and see if this wonderful news you have heard is true." "Yes, let us go at once." "But . . . but . . . what if the children are afraid of me, too, or don't trust me? Oh, I'd better hide until I can get my wits together."

If that didn't make any sense, it's because it was from a play version of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe in which yours truly played Mr. Beaver. Yes, I did that all from memory, even though most of it isn't even my lines. Yeah, weird tangent. Namarie.


	19. Implications

Disclaimer: The people aren't mine. The constant moral arguing in this chapter is. I must've run this conversation through my head a dozen times . . .

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen  
****Implications**

Athos fixed his gaze on Dorothy Ann. "You heard what I told Tim; what do you think about what's going on?"

"I can definitely see where you're coming from," Dorothy Ann admitted. "People do often seem too violent for their own good. But that could change."

"How? People have been fighting for thousands of years; you think they are going to stop at the drop of a hat? First it was just sticks and rocks. Then spears, and swords. Knives, bows, and axes. Gunpowder. All kinds of guns. Bigger guns, guns that could shoot farther, smaller, easier to carry guns. And cannons. Tanks. Machine guns. Bombs. Bombs from planes, from boats, from submarines. And now, as if all that weren't bad enough, now you've got nuclear weapons! Capable of destroying practically everything on the planet! And you think it's all just going to _stop_? You think people will _change_?"

"Well . . ."

"It won't happen, Dorothy Ann. People will keep fighting until there's no one left to kill, or until we intervene. It may be human nature to blow each other to bits, but it's not ours."

"'Ours'?"

"I consider myself one of them, Dorothy Ann. I have never considered myself human. I was raised as their leader, and that is who I am."

"I see that. You don't have much respect for humans."

"Should I?"

"We've made discoveries that--"

"That could have been made much sooner if you'd cooperate instead of forever competing with each other."

"Space exploration--"

"Originated out of the Cold War between you and the Soviet Union. That _was_ a school you were at, right?"

"We've been to--"

"The moon? Six times. Yippee. And you sent a robot to Mars. Fantastic. Do you know how much farther you still have to go, how much farther you could be if the whole world worked together? And look at all the problems you have right here! Poverty. Disease. Hunger. Terrorist bombings. Suicide bombers. Persecution. Prejudice. People who own billions of dollars while workers in foreign countries barely get paid a cent. Is this what you're defending?"

"Well . . ." She waited for Athos to interrupt, but he didn't. He just kept staring at her, waiting for an answer.

Phoebe looked up. "No, that's not what we're defending. We're defending tiny wide-eyed babies and wise old grandfathers."

"And mothers and fathers, families trying to live right," Arnold added.

"Strange teachers with wacky fieldtrips," Dorothy Ann added.

"Annoying cousins," Arnold smiled.

"Long walks on the beach or in the woods," Phoebe nodded, "just watching nature grow."

"Good books," Dorothy Ann smiled.

"Teenage moms working two jobs just to survive," Arnold said.

"And their kids," Phoebe nodded.

"And their parents."

"Little kids begging for puppy dogs."

"Learning to walk."

"Learning to read."

"Seeing their first snow."

"Their first butterfly."

"Their first picnic."

Athos listened as their voices blended together. Even he couldn't tell who was saying what any more. He just sat back and relaxed; he'd heard this song before.

At last, the kids ran out of things to say, and Phoebe smiled like they'd won. "That's what we're defending."

Athos nodded calmly. "And you're of the opinion that all of this would be lost, if I had my way?"

"Means equal ends," Arnold said quietly.

"What?" Athos and Dorothy Ann asked in unison.

"Means equal ends," Phoebe agreed. "The ends doesn't justify the means. Even if you end war and poverty and disease, it's not worth the destruction of our way of life."

"And you think that would happen?" Athos asked.

"Well, yes," Arnold said. "I mean, just look at what you did to the school. If you do that everywhere, what'll be left of this world but a big pile of rubble?"

Athos looked from Arnold to Phoebe. "You certainly learned something from Morgan." He noticed Arnold studying him. "What?"

"Just trying to decide whether you sound more like Magneto or Q," he shrugged. Suddenly, both he and Phoebe collapsed back onto the back of the couch as though struck.

"Arnold! Phoebe! Are you all right?" Dorothy Ann shouted. "Athos, if you've done anything to them--"

"Peace, Dorothy Ann. I assure you, I have not."

"He's right," Arnold said, struggling to sit up. "It's all right. I don't know what it was, but it stopped almost as soon as it started."

Phoebe looked at him, frightened. "Morgan." They both rushed for the door, but Athos reached for his whistle. They both stopped immediately and sat back down, frustrated. "What have you done?" Phoebe demanded.

"It is not what I have done. It is what you have done."

Arnold understood at once. "You're using her as blackmail."

"You could put it that way. As long as you cooperate, no harm will come to her. I dare say she's hurt badly enough already; I have no wish to do this."

"And what if we don't cooperate?" Phoebe asked, though she knew the answer.

"I will do what I must, Phoebe."

Phoebe and Arnold looked at each other frantically. What could they do? Athos seemed to be waiting for an answer of some kind.

"Wait," Dorothy Ann insisted. "What was that just now, when you two almost collapsed? How did you know it had something to do with Morgan?"

"Why does it matter?" Arnold asked. "In any case--"

"Arnold, please, let me reason through this. What was it?"

Arnold sighed reluctantly. "Telepathy of some sort. It's why they wanted us. They think we can tell what she's thinking."

"And for a second, you could?"

"But only for a second," Phoebe nodded.

"Suppose that wasn't because your connection is still weak," Dorothy Ann continued. "Suppose Morgan became aware that she was transferring her thoughts to you, and stopped it herself."

"So what?" Arnold asked. "Where are you going with this?"

But Dorothy Ann wasn't listening. She turned to Athos. "How did you know Phoebe's name? She never told you. Tim and I never told you. How did you know?"

Athos didn't respond. He simply raised an eyebrow. Dorothy Ann continued. "When Phoebe and Arnold felt whatever it was they felt, I saw you wince, for a fraction of a second. You, too, responded to whatever it was. Why?"

"It sounds to me like you already have some idea."

"I do, indeed." She turned to Phoebe and Arnold. "I think he has the same connection with Morgan that you do, except that he has more control over it. Hence, he has been around Morgan longer and developed a closer bond. Hence, he cares about her and she about him." She turned back to the gleems' leader. "Your bluff is called, Athos. You won't kill Morgan. I've been watching you too closely. You put up a good act, but not good enough. You wouldn't kill her over something like this."

Athos looked the three of them over. "Is this what you think, as well, Phoebe? Arnold?"

Arnold looked over at Dorothy Ann. She was confident, convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was right, or at least that was how she appeared. Was she right about this? Could they really trust her judgment?

"Yes," he said at last. "I agree."

"Me, too," Phoebe nodded.

Athos raised an eyebrow. "Curious. An elementary school Sherlock Holmes. But surely, Dorothy Ann, you realize the implications of your statement, if it is true."

"You wouldn't!"

"Now, that's jumping to conclusions, Dorothy Ann. Let me see the logic behind that one."

"Huh?" Arnold asked. "D.A., what did he say, in English?"

"He said that if I'm right and I called his bluff, he's going to have to do something else."

"Like what?"

"He'll have to use someone else in Morgan's place."

"Tim?" Phoebe asked, shocked.

"No, he wants Tim for some reason. But he has Wanda, too, and me."

"Phoebe, Arnold," Athos nodded. "_You_ are the ones who can help me. If we had someone who could eventually be able to read Morgan's thoughts, we could know where all of them are at any given point in time, and when is the best time to strike where. You would be of a great help to us. Or," he added, "you could simply cause more pain and suffering, if you refuse. The choice is yours."

Phoebe and Arnold looked at each other, then at Dorothy Ann, who nodded. "No," Phoebe and Arnold said in unison, and Dorothy Ann smiled.

Athos didn't look surprised, or even upset in the least bit. He simply nodded and stared into Dorothy Ann's eyes. "Very well," he nodded, reaching for his whistle. "You've earned the consequences."

* * *

Muahahahahahaha. Yeah, that's usually how my conversation with myself ends, too. You earned the consequences. You deal with it. (sigh) Why can't life be simple:) 


	20. A Red Sunrise

Disclaimer: Whatever's left of this by the end of the chapter still isn't mine. And I mean that this time.

---

**Chapter Twenty  
A Red Sunrise**

Dorothy Ann struggled against the gleems with all her might as they dragged her out of the room, but it was no use. There were too many, and they were too strong. Yet she struggled, for they were taking her, she feared, to her death.

Instead, to her surprise and relief, she was dumped into the dungeon with Wanda and Tim. "D.A.!" they both shouted, and rushed to her side. "Are you all right?" Tim asked.

"I'm . . . fine," Dorothy Ann managed. "I . . . I thought they were going to kill me! They way he -- oh, that can wait! Tim, if I'm all right, and Wanda's all right, Morgan's in danger. Athos is using her as blackmail to try to convince Phoebe and Arnold to join him. I didn't think he'd actually kill her, but if he's not going to kill any of us . . ."

Tim blinked. "Wait. I missed something. Why would you think he wouldn't kill her?"

"Tim, you met the man," Dorothy Ann insisted. "He didn't even want to hurt you, someone he had barely met. And he knows Morgan." She explained what she had seen, what had happened to Phoebe and Arnold.

When she was done, Tim looked up. "You're assuming a lot, D.A. You're assuming it wasn't just a random thing that he winced, that he and Morgan actually have a bond like that, that such a bond requires friendship and isn't just completely random."

"But you saw--"

"Did it ever occur to you that he might be acting?" Tim asked gently. "That it could all be a mask, a disguise?"

"Then why hasn't he killed you?"

"I . . . I don't know," Tim admitted. "I'm just saying how do you know that you didn't see what you saw simply because you wanted to? And if he's not going to kill Morgan," he added, "then why are the three of us still alive?"

---

"There it is!" Carlos pointed to the tower in the distance.

"Is it just me, or is that place huge?" Ralphie exclaimed.

Indeed, it was, large and white, glistening in the pale light of the morning.

"You know," Carlos remarked, "this is really, really dumb. They'll be expecting something like this. From here to the tower is open land. No way they won't see us."

"Oh, bad, oh, bad, oh, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad," Keesha agreed.

"Well, do we have a better plan?" Ralphie asked. "We have to do _something_!"

"Scream for help?" Carlos suggested.

"Carlos!"

"No, I wasn't kidding," Carlos said, pointing at the sky. "Because here they come!"

"Um . . . who brought their sword?" Keesha asked, and received two blank stares. Soon, the gleems had landed and surrounded the group.

A woman leapt lightly off the back of one of the gleems. She was tall, with long, curly golden hair and ice blue eyes. She wore a plain white t-shirt and khaki pants. "Well, well, well, what have we here?"

"Just a couple of lost kids," Carlos volunteered.

"Very funny." The woman was actually smiling, as if amused. "Then you won't care that we have your friends up in the tower, and it would be better for them if you come quietly."

Carlos looked at the others, who shrugged. "All right," he nodded. "What did you have in mind?"

---

Eric leaned back against a bookcase. After a moment, he raised an eyebrow. "Guys, I can't reach Morgan."

Ms. Frizzle looked up. "What's that mean?"

Noka shrugged. "Any number of things. She's asleep. She's distracted. She's ignoring us. She's unconscious. It's certainly not a reason to panic -- yet."

"And when does it become a reason to panic?" Ms. Frizzle demanded.

"When it goes on too long," Rona suggested. "Or when Peter or Latano can't reach her."

"But Peter's not here," Balo pointed out. "And my uncle's out of it."

"Not for long," Rona shrugged casually. "His pulse and breathing have been improving for a while now. He'll come out of it soon."

Sure enough, Latano slowly blinked his eyes open. "How do you feel?" Rona asked.

"Terrible," Latano answered honestly. "But I'll survive. How 'bout the rest of you?"

"We're all right," Eric nodded.

"Any word on the others?"

Eric shook his head. "I can't reach Morgan."

Latano nodded and closed his eyes. A moment later, he had his answer. "She's ignoring me."

"Why would she do that?" Ms. Frizzle asked, puzzled.

"It's simple, really," Latano explained. "Normally, she has complete control over what is relayed to us telepathically. When she's too weak, however, pain can also be transferred, and she avoids that by ignoring us completely. I'll try again."

He closed his eyes. After a moment, a look of pain crossed his face, then one of surprise, complete shock. His eyes flew open. "What is it?" Eric asked frantically. "What did she say?"

Latano hesitated, as if he still didn't believe it himself. "She said . . . she loves us. And then she said good-bye."

"Is she . . ." Noka started to ask, but even he found himself unable to finish it.

Latano shook his head. "She's alive. Weak, but alive."

"Then . . ." Ms. Frizzle hesitated. "What did she mean?"

---

Tim looked up as the door of the dungeon was thrown open once more. Keesha, Ralphie, and Carlos were dumped in. Before anyone could make a comment on the obvious -- that the rescue mission had been a flop -- the gleems grabbed Tim and dragged him out of the dungeon.

"Tim!" the others called.

"Don't worry; I'll be fine!" Tim called back, but didn't really believe it at all. Athos had waited long enough; he was finally going to do something.

But to Tim's surprise, they took him right back to Athos' room. "Look, Athos," Tim sighed as they shoved him through the door. "I'm sick of this yo-yo thing. Pick one place to put me and stick with it, huh?"

"You in a hurry for that place to be ten feet underground?" Athos snapped fiercely.

Tim shut up immediately. This was not the man he'd seen before, the almost polite gentleman who seemed genuinely sorry for what was happening. In his light brown eyes was a fire that was truly frightening. Tim hurriedly sat down next to Arnold. As the gleems closed the door, Athos turned to stare out the window in a cold silence.

"What happened?" Tim asked in a whisper. The room was a wreck. Papers were strewn everywhere. Athos' chair was tipped over. Even the window he was staring out was cracked.

"I'm not sure," Phoebe answered quietly. "One of the gleems came in a little while ago and told him something. I don't know why, but he just went crazy."

Tim got up from the couch and walked hesitantly over to the window. He looked up, and was surprised to see that Athos was crying. "Athos?" he asked timidly.

Instead of responding, Athos whirled around and grabbed Tim. Once he had him in one arm, he drew his sword. He turned to the others. "Follow me, or he dies."

At first, Tim thought he meant for them to join him, but then Athos motioned towards the door. Athos pulled Tim along with him. Out of the corner of his eye, Tim could see Phoebe and Arnold following them, shocked. Athos had never threatened any of them before, except perhaps Dorothy Ann, who had all but asked for it.

Tim looked up at Athos, who avoided his gaze. Why, Tim wondered. What had happened? What could have upset Athos so much?

And where were they going?

---

"Peter? Peter!" came a voice inside his head. Peter stirred where he lay in the cold, dark underground of the Elves' prison. His hands and feet were bound, but his mind was his own, and this he slowly opened to his young friend.

Pain flooded in, pain he knew she was trying desperately to control. "I'm sorry," came the apology he expected. "I can't--"

"It's all right, Kenobi," he responded gently. "Let go. It's all right. Let me help you."

"Peter . . ."

She didn't need to say any more. That was all he needed -- that one simple word. From that, he knew. "Morgan," he replied kindly. "I'm so sorry."

"No," came the reply. "No. Don't be. Never be sorry for what you've given me. You gave me a life, Peter. You gave me hope." There was a pause. "Do you remember when we first learned we could talk like this?"

Peter smiled. How could he forget? "I sure do. You were at camp with your sixth grade class. They wanted you to go on the ropes course."

Peter could hear Morgan's laugh, and could see her smile in his mind as she finished the story. "I was so scared, but they kept pushing me and teasing me and I didn't know what to do. Then you said . . . "Either way, you'll have flown." I . . . I didn't realize at the time how true that was, Peter."

"You didn't go up. But you flew that day, Morgan. You flew."

"Because of the gift you gave me. You showed me that refusing to do something can take as much courage as doing it. I flew that day . . . and today I'll fly again."

Tears came to Peter's eyes. "I love you so much, Morgan."

"I love you, too, Peter." There was another silence. "They're coming. Peter . . . please, tell the kids, when they escape . . . tell them . . . it was my choice . . . it's not their fault . . . tell them . . . I flew."

"I will," Peter promised. "I will tell them. I promise."

"I love you, Peter."

"I love you, Morgan."

"Namarië," Morgan said quietly, and her mind, her spirit, slowly drifted from his. He was left alone, in the dungeon, once more.

"What is it?" Tandro asked, though he already had a guess.

But Peter was crying too hard to answer.

---

Athos sheathed his sword when they came to a room with a closed door. Releasing Tim, he wiped his eyes and opened the door. He entered, but gave no instruction to the others.

For a moment, Tim considered running, but found he couldn't. He had to know what was going on. He, Phoebe, and Arnold moved forward into the doorway.

There, on the floor, lay Morgan, a pool of blood forming about her. Athos knelt by her side, holding her hand. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Morgan, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Morgan gripped his hand tightly. "I know, Athos. I know. And I forgive you. It's all right, Athos."

"I should have realized--"

"You had no way of knowing."

"But you knew."

"Yes."

"How long?"

"Since I woke up in the dungeon. I knew if anything else happened . . . it would be too much." She coughed, and tried to sit up.

Athos eased her back down. "Save your strength."

"For what? No . . . point . . . any more," she managed between gasps.

"Morgan."

"Athos . . . please . . ."

Athos nodded and took her gently in his arms, cradling her as one would a baby, close to himself. She put her left arm about his neck; her right hung limp and useless at her side. "Athos . . ."

"Speak mentally if it's easier," Athos suggested, tears streaming down his cheeks, tears he didn't even bother to hide.

Morgan shook her head. "Don't know . . . what could happen . . . when . . ."

Athos nodded his understanding. "So you cut off the others, too."

"Yes."

Athos held Morgan closer. "It's all right, Morgan. It's all right."

Morgan smiled weakly. "Of course . . . it is . . . mellon nin." Her eyes closed. "Mellon nin," she repeated softly, then fell silent.

Tim could hear Phoebe and Arnold behind him, crying on each other's shoulders. A lump came to his throat. Slowly, cautiously, he entered the room and put an arm around Athos. Athos stared at the boy for a moment, then drew him in closer. He lay Morgan's body gently on the ground and threw both arms around Tim.

And, without hesitation, Tim did the same.


	21. Aftermath

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Well, I'm not sure whether I technically own what's left of the Woodland Wanderers or not. It's hard to own people like them. :)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One  
****Aftermath**

For a while, all was silent. Phoebe and Arnold entered the room. Phoebe couldn't conceal a shudder as she saw Morgan's body. Blood was everywhere. Her clothes were torn, and wounds lay open. Yet though her body was broken, a smile was on the young teenager's face, and an incredible expression of peace.

None of them spoke. For they all knew without saying so that if a word was spoken, it would break the trance. It would mean this was not some horrible nightmare. The first word would bring them all back to reality. And no one wanted to be the one to do that.

It was Athos who at last spoke. "Mellon nin," he said softly, repeating Morgan's last words. "Mellon nin."

"It means friend, doesn't it?" Arnold asked, but it wasn't really a question. He knew the answer before the words left his mouth. Yet it seemed the right thing to say.

"It's Elvish," Athos nodded. "'My friend.' And make no mistake; she was my friend."

Tim looked up. "Dorothy Ann was right."

Athos smiled weakly. "Your little friend called my bluff beautifully. I never had any intention of killing any of you. I didn't know I had hurt Morgan that badly during the battle. Then the gleems came and told me there was nothing they could do . . . I . . . I went mad. Tim, I'm sorry I threatened you, but it was the fastest way to get all of you down here."

Tim nodded. "I understand."

"If you were anyone else, Tim, I would make you eat those words. But you _do _understand. Tim, do me one favor. Take this." He held out a small jar.

Tim looked inside. "That's impossible! How did you know?"

"Some things are best left a secret, my young friend." Phoebe and Arnold had already joined Tim in staring in astonishment. "But your teacher will be wanting her bus back. As far as the others know, you three, this fell out of my pocket, and you took it and ran. Understand?"

Phoebe, Arnold, and Tim all nodded in unison. "Good," Athos smiled. "Now take it and run."

* * *

Tandro made his way over to Peter's side as the elves' footsteps faded once more into the distance. They hadn't even bothered to rechain them; it was pointless. "Peter," Tandro whispered, and the old man turned his head slightly. 

Just then, a blinding light lit the dungeon, and a school bus appeared in front of them, seemingly out of nowhere. The two captives struggled to their feet as the bus doors opened. As soon as they were inside, the doors closed, and the bus began to shrink.

It didn't take Peter long to see that Morgan's body lay on one of the seats. He fell to his knees beside her as the bus took off. Soon, nine pairs of arms were wrapped around him. Peter looked around. "So where did the bus come from?"

"Athos," Tim explained, then added, "It fell out of his pocket."

Peter managed a smile. "The pocket he cut a hole in, maybe. More likely he just gave it to you, but I won't argue with your story." His eyes scanned the group. "Morgan had a message, for all of you. She said this isn't your fault, that it was her choice. And she was wholeheartedly right. She said to tell you that she flew. And . . . she was right about that, too. In fact, today she flew higher than ever before."

Most of the students looked confused, but Phoebe, Arnold, and Tim nodded. They understood.

* * *

Ms. Frizzle was pacing the floors of the library when the bus flew in. It grew to its normal size, and the kids piled out. Behind them came Tandro, and Peter carrying Morgan's body. Eric rushed to his side, took one look, and threw his arms around the old man, crying. Ms. Frizzle was startled. Eric had seemed to have so much control. But, then, so had she, before today. Before . . . 

Tim rushed over to Latano and wrapped him in a huge hug. "You're all right! I thought--"

"I know," the elf cut him off. "It's all right, Tim. It's all right."

Tim shook his head. "No. No, it's not all right. It'll never be all right. Morgan's gone, Latano."

"I know," the elf said softly. "We talked before the end. She knew. She may have known the moment she set foot in this school, the moment she took those steps into your classroom. But she took them anyway, Tim. It was her choice."

Tim nodded slowly. "I know. I know, really, I do. But that doesn't make it any easier."

"Of course not. It will never be easy, Tim. In fact, I pity the person who accepts death easily. But there is a difference between easily and willingly. One implies indifference, the other acceptance. And acceptance is a wonderful gift."

Tim smiled. "I saw that."

Eric turned. "So Athos was with her when . . ."

"You got that out of _that_?" Ms. Frizzle asked, confused.

Tim nodded, ignoring his teacher. "Yes, he was. By the way, thank you. Latano said you said to tell me my parents were brave."

Eric blinked. After everything that had happened, Tim could remember _that_? "Yes," he nodded. "I see a lot of them in you, Tim. But with a unique twist. You're different. And maybe you don't realize it yet, but today . . . today will change your life, Tim. You'll be different."

"How do you mean?" Ms. Frizzle asked.

It was Peter who answered. "You'll never be able to go back to the way things were. Walls will be rebuilt. Classrooms will be restored. Lessons resumed. Games played. And there will be fieldtrips, more adventures. But at the end of the day, what really matters are your experiences, your memories, and this is one that you will never be able to forget. No matter how normal your lives are from now on, you know things, you've seen things, things that set you apart from everyone else. But you will always have these friends to come back to. As strong as the bond between you was before, it has now been forged by fire and the sword, and together you found the strength to rise above.

"There will be times when you will wish you could go back to the way things were before. When you wish you could forget. When you wish things could be simple. But you can't, and they won't. This is what your life is now. This is who you are. And yet that has not changed. Because things like this don't build character. They reveal it. What you've found today isn't some new person, some new courageous spirit who popped up out of nowhere and will vanish again just as quickly. _This_ is who you really are."

Ms. Frizzle nodded, then echoed, "Who we really are."

The Beginning

* * *

Wow. I actually finished it. That makes this the second-longest fic I've actually finished. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Thanks for reading.  
--Smeagol Fasir Kenobi 


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